


An Unexpected Family

by cvsossong



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Because I'm in serious denial after BotFA, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Lives, Family, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Protective Thorin, Slow Build, Young Frodo Baggins, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvsossong/pseuds/cvsossong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle for Erebor, Bilbo returns home and assumes care for a young Frodo. He decides to take the boy to Erebor to raise him among his dwarf friends. He didn't realize that he would be creating quite possibly the oddest family in Middle Earth. (Or, because I'm in serious denial about the last Hobbit movie and wrote a fix-it to make myself feel better).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)

When Bilbo returned to the Shire, he half-expected to return to the mundane, unexciting life he’d lived before his adventure. After the debacle with his furniture being sold—and with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins attempting to steal his spoons, nasty old biddy that she was—he moved back into Bag End and resigned himself to a comfortable if boring life of gardening and housekeeping.

He really ought to have known better.

“We simply can’t care for him any longer,” Menegilda Brandybuck explained. She had arrived around noon one day, insisting that Bilbo speak with her immediately. Bilbo had learned from experience never to deny a Brandybuck, so here she was, sitting in his living room with a cup of tea.

“It’s not that we don’t want to,” Menegilda continued. “It’s just that Rorimac and I already have two sons, and there really isn’t enough space in Brandy Hall. We were hoping you might be able to step in and take care of Frodo for a while.”

Bilbo leaned back and tapped the arm of his chair. “How long would a ‘while’ be?” he asked.

Menegilda shrugged. “Just until we can care for him again properly,” she said innocently.

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Menegilda had no real intentions of taking Frodo back, no matter what she said. “Where is the boy now?” he asked instead.

“Just outside. I’ll bring him in, if you like.” Menegilda stood before Bilbo could say anything and briskly walked towards the door.

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he had expected was having to take care of a small child, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his time. And he knew Frodo had been through enough with his parents’ deaths—maybe a steady home in Bag End would be good for the lad.

Menegilda pushed a little fauntling into the room and crossed her arms. “Say hello, Frodo,” she prompted.

The boy was no more than a babe. He had dark, curling locks and bright blue eyes, so like his father that Bilbo felt a surge of longing for his deceased cousin. Frodo shuffled forward nervously, clutching his hands together behind his back. He glanced up at Bilbo through dark lashes and smiled nervously.

“Hi,” he whispered. Bilbo smiled in spite of himself and leaned down to Frodo’s level.

“Hello, little one,” he greeted. “I’ve heard you’ll be staying with me for a bit. Is that alright?”

Frodo shuffled another step forward, nodding nervously. “Yes,” he said softly. Bilbo nodded and stood up to level his gaze on Menegilda. She shifted uncomfortably and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“So you’ll take him then?” she asked.

Bilbo glanced down at the little boy, who was watching them with wide eyes. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll take care of Frodo.”

\--------------------

Frodo was a shy, sweet little boy. As soon as Menegilda left, he toddled over to Bilbo and grabbed at his trousers gently. “I hungry,” he said simply. Bilbo grinned and bent down to scoop the fauntling up.

“Well, you’re certainly a Hobbit,” he replied. “Come on, then, let’s get you something warm in your belly.” He poked Frodo’s stomach for emphasis and the little boy giggled.

As they ate the soup he heated up, Bilbo watched the fauntling carefully. He still had his baby fat—chubby cheeks, stout legs, rounded belly—but there was something far too serious in his eyes that unnerved Bilbo. The poor thing had clearly been through quite a hardship over the past several months.

Bilbo had heard the story not long after he returned from Erebor. Primula and Drogo had taken their son out to Brandywine River for a day in the sun. Primula and Drogo had gone out on their boat to fish for supper, and a freak accident sank their boat and left Frodo an orphan. Since then the boy had been staying with the Brandybucks as an apparently unwanted third child.

“More?” Frodo asked hopefully, holding up his empty bowl. Bilbo smiled and ladled a bit more in. He tore a chunk of bread off a loaf on the table and handed that to the boy, too.

“Do you have some things?” Bilbo asked. “Clothes, toys, things like that?”

Frodo nodded, cheeks stuffed with bread. He quickly swallowed and said, “At Unca Rory’s.”

“We’ll have to go over later and pick them up, then.”

Bilbo finished eating and stood up to wash his bowl out. As he worked, he thought about what he could do. Bag End was large enough for the two of them, certainly, but it tended to get lonely up here. Bilbo was used to it by now, but a boy like Frodo would want to play with other children. He would want a wide-open space, free to play and enjoy life surrounded by people who cared for him. Bilbo simply couldn’t provide that himself.

He could move somewhere else in the Shire, but it simply wouldn’t feel the same. They could go to Rivendell, but elves were distant and mature beyond their years, and Frodo would be miserable there. Really, Bilbo could only think of one option.

“Frodo, are you up for an adventure?” he asked. Frodo glanced up at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“Where we goin’?” he asked.

“Somewhere very far away,” Bilbo replied. “It’s called the Lonely Mountain. You heard that I went on an adventure?” Frodo nodded, and Bilbo continued, “Well, on that adventure I went to the mountain with some very good friends of mine and helped them get their home back. So now they live there.”

“I meet ‘em?” Frodo asked.

“Of course,” Bilbo replied. “They’re dwarves, you know.”

Frodo's mouth fell open. “Never met dwarves a’fore,” he said. “Is t'ey big?”

“A little bigger then us, but not as big as elves.”

Frodo began bouncing in his seat excitedly and Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh. “We go? Please, please, please?”

Bilbo glanced around his little hobbit-hole and felt a surge of longing for the rowdy band of dwarves he’d come to know so well. “We’ll leave in a month,” he promised. “But we’ll have a lot to pack, okay?”

Frodo nodded and hopped off his chair. He toddled towards Bilbo and tugged on his trousers until the older hobbit picked him up. “Wanna stay wi’ you, Unca Bilbo,” he said decisively.

Bilbo smiled and kissed the boy’s cheek. “And that’s exactly what you’ll do, my lad,” he promised.

\--------------------

The journey was much longer the second time around, considering that now Bilbo had a small child to carry with him. They set out at the beginning of spring, taking their leisurely time as they walked along. Frodo chased butterflies and picked flowers to weave into little crowns, and every night Bilbo sat them down around a fire and told him a story from his adventure with the dwarves.

“…and then, just when it seemed like the trolls would eat us all up, Gandalf appeared and split the rock behind them in half, revealing the sun. And all the trolls turned into stone, and they’re still there today.”

Frodo's mouth was hanging wide open by now, his bowl of stew long forgotten. “We see ‘em?” he asked excitedly.

“We may pass by them, yes,” Bilbo replied. “They’re all moldy and covered in vines, now, but they’re still there.”

“'Nother!” Frodo prompted. He bounced on Bilbo's lap and tugged on the older hobbit’s shirt expectantly.

“Only if you eat your stew,” Bilbo said. Frodo picked up the bowl immediately and looked up at Bilbo. “Okay, how about the time we got caught in the goblin caves?”

Even though it took far longer the second trip, it was also far more enjoyable. They hardly ran across any trouble, even in the rougher parts of the forests. They stayed in Rivendell for a week, and Bilbo made sure to keep them on the elven path through Mirkwood. Frodo was fascinated by everything they saw—from the elves of Rivendell, to the butterflies in Mirkwood, and even by a small group of goblins that the forest elves hunted down while they passed through Thranduil’s kingdom.

By the time the Lonely Mountain came into view, however, Bilbo was thoroughly exhausted. They’d been travelling for almost eight months, and he was certain Frodo was as ready to arrive at their new home as Bilbo was if the amount of questions he kept asking were any indication.

“Is dwarves friendly? Is t'ey beards real long? I touch ‘em?” the boy chattered as they walked up the steep path to the entrance of Erebor. Bilbo shifted him on his hip and peered up at the enormous statues.

“Yes, they are friendly, and their beards can be very long. And I’m certain if you ask nicely they might let you touch their beards,” Bilbo dutifully answered. Frodo had been asking questions constantly since they had arrived in Dale last night and had seen the Lonely Mountain for the first time.

A dwarf greeted them at the gate with a drawn sword and piercing scowl. Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’m Bilbo Baggins and I'm here to see the Company of dwarves,” he called out before the dwarf could even speak. The guard’s expression immediately changed and he ushered them out of the rain and through the gate quickly.

“I’ll find someone from the Company for ye, sir,” the dwarf promised as he raced off. Bilbo nodded his thanks and surveyed the kingdom around them.

The dwarves had clearly made progress since Bilbo had last been here. What once had been rubble and dust now gave way to an elegant, regal chamber filled with statues and other fineries. Bilbo glanced down one of the long hallways and saw that many of the rooms were cleared away and refurnished.

“Lookit,” Frodo whispered. He was gazing up at one of the statues with awe, and Bilbo followed his gaze to meet the eye of a scowling dwarf that looked similar to Thorin.

“That must be Thror,” he said. “That’s Thorin's grandfather. He used to be king here.”

“Who king now?” Frodo asked.

“Thorin is,” Bilbo replied. “And his nephew Fíli is his heir, and Fíli’s brother Kíli is next in line after that.”

“Torin, Fíli, Kíli,” Frodo recited. Bilbo had been attempting to teach him the names of the dwarves, but the only ones that really seemed to stick with him were Thorin—even though he pronounced it ‘Torin’— and Bombur.

“Very good,” Bilbo praised the lad. “And speaking of Fíli and Kíli…” He glanced down the hall and grinned at the sight of the two dwarves racing towards them. “Here they come now.”

“ _Bilbo!”_ they cried as they ran. Fíli arrived first, panting, and immediately threw his arms around Bilbo's shoulders. Kíli followed close behind and did the same, until Bilbo was wrapped in their embrace on both sides.

“We missed you,” Kíli said once they finally pulled away. “Uncle seemed to think you’d never return, but we told him you were just relaxing back in your hobbit-hole.”

“Hello, hello, who is this little thing?” Fíli asked as he inspected Frodo. The fauntling buried his nose in the crook of Bilbo's neck shyly. “Why, if I didn’t know better I’d say it was our burglar’s babe.”

“A hobbit babe?” Kíli leaned forward and carefully fingered Frodo's curls. “It is a hobbit babe!”

“He’s a tiny little chit, isn’t he?”

“Tiniest thing I ever saw. Chubby, too. So where’d you get him, Bilbo?”

“Find him on the street, did you?”

“Alright, enough,” Bilbo laughed. He waved them off and smoothed Frodo's curls back soothingly. “This is my nephew, Frodo,” he introduced. “Frodo, this is Fíli and Kíli. They’re the dwarf princes, remember?”

Frodo lifted his head shyly and waved at each of the dwarves. “Hi,” he blushed.

The brothers melted. “He’s adorable,” Kíli whispered dramatically.

“Can we keep him?” Fíli asked excitedly. “Tell me you two are staying.”

“Oh, yes! You have to stay; we’ve got a room already made up for you. Had it since you left for the Shire, didn’t want to take any chances.”

“And it’s certainly big enough for a little thing like Frodo here.”

“Besides,” Kíli winked at Frodo, “we’ve got a kitchen big enough to fill even the stomachs of two hobbits. And Bombur's just finished making supper, so it’s still nice and warm for you.”

Frodo perked up at the mention of food. “We go? Unca, we go eat?” he asked Bilbo urgently. “Please?”

“Of course we’re going,” Bilbo replied. He shooed the two dwarves off and followed them down the winding halls. “And we would like to stay, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Fíli waved off Bilbo's concerns and shot a grin over his shoulder. “Mountain’s more than big enough to fit two more halflings,” he replied cheekily. “We’ll find a place for you, don’t you worry.”

“Bombur’ll be happy to have you helping in the kitchen again,” Kíli added. “And we’ve got a room for you in the royal hallway, all nice and cozy.”

“That’s not necessary,” Bilbo replied quickly. “Just whatever room you’ve got to spare.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone from the Company’s got a room in that wing of the palace, and so will you,” Kíli said. He pushed open a wooden door and slapped Bombur's shoulder as they passed him. “Look who we brought.”

Bombur turned and grinned at Bilbo. “Well, well, our Hobbit’s returned to us,” he greeted. Bilbo was once again swept into a rib-cracking hug, and Frodo giggled when Bombur’s beard tickled over his nose. “And you’ve brought a wee Hobbit with you.”

“I Frodo,” the little boy spoke up. He seemed to be growing more confident the longer they were in Erebor. Bilbo took it as a good sign.

“ _Gamut sanu yenet_ , Frodo,” Bombur greeted. “You’re just in time for my famous rabbit stew.”

Frodo clapped and squirmed out of Bilbo's arms to race towards the kitchen table. Bilbo followed and sighed in relief when he sat on the warm wooden bench and grabbed a bowl. They’d been rationing the last of their food the past few days, and Bilbo was half-starved by now.

“Here, come sit with us, Frodo,” Kíli called. Frodo ducked under the table and came up in between Kíli’s knees. The dwarf scooped him up and plopped him down in his lap, sliding a bowl of stew closer so Frodo could reach out and grab it.

“Uncle’s not going to be able to resist this one,” Fíli said as he sat beside his brother.

“Where is Thorin?” Bilbo asked.

“Still in a meeting with his advisors,” Kíli replied. “The other dwarves’ll be along soon, though; they always come running when they smell Bombur’s rabbit stew.”

Sure enough, not five minutes passed before they heard the rumbling and clanging of heavy boots on the stairs. Frodo whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the noise, and jumped when the doors slammed open and the rest of the Company filed through.

“Bilbo!” they cried when they saw him. Bilbo sighed and stood up to greet each of them, knowing he’d never be able to continue eating until he had. Frodo watched them with wide eyes the whole time.

“Good to have you back, lad,” Balin said cheerfully. He clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and grabbed a bowl from Bombur. “I heard from a guard that you’ve brought a little halfling with you. Where’s the boy now?”

“Here,” Kíli called out. He patted Frodo on the head and grinned when the others swarmed around to get a glance of the little boy. “Easy, easy, the boy’s shy around new folks like us.”

“He looks an awful lot like our Bilbo,” Bofur commented as he sat at the table.

“Are you here to stay, then?” Glóin asked Bilbo.

“As long as we’re welcome,” Bilbo replied.

“Of course you’re welcome! You’re a member of the Company, you’ll always have a home in Erebor,” Nori grinned. “Now, introduce us to the little chit you’ve brought with you.”

Bilbo sat back at the table and waited until everyone was situated and mostly quiet before he spoke again. “This is my nephew, Frodo,” he said, gesturing to the little boy who was now attempting to hide himself in Kíli’s long hair. “He’s still a babe, and he’s shy at first, but he’s a good lad and he won’t cause any trouble.”

“That’s a shame,” Fíli joked.

Dwalin slapped him over the head and rolled his eyes. “As if we need another troublemaker besides ye an' yer idiot brother.”

“I’ll have you know I am heir to a throne, I never cause trouble—”

“Oh? Then the ink incident last month must’ve been a runaway squirrel in the palace.”

“That was one time, just because you’re still bitter over it—”

“It was all over the maps an' books we had spread over the table! Ori’s still tryin' to recreate them an' even then he’s not nearly close to done—”

“I hungry,” Frodo interrupted loudly. All conversation halted as thirteen pairs of eyes turned towards the Hobbit in Kíli’s lap. “Please?” he asked with wide eyes as he held up his bowl.

Bombur shot out of his seat and had Frodo's bowl refilled before anyone could even speak. The boy smiled in thanks and happily stuffed a spoonful of stew into his mouth. Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Be careful, or he’ll end up wrapping you all around his finger,” he warned.

“Seems a bit too late for that, my boy,” Balin replied quietly. He nodded towards Kíli, who was cooing over Frodo and carefully untangling his curls. The other younger dwarves were crowding around him and arguing over who would hold him next. “But at least you know he’ll have a good home here.”

“Aye, he’ll be safe as a locked box,” Dwalin agreed with a smirk. “Those boys would sooner die than let any harm fall on him, I can tell already.”

“And he’s barely even been here an hour,” Óin added. “Just imagine what a week’ll do for him.”

“Gracious, he’ll practically be running the whole mountain,” Bilbo exclaimed. He smiled over fondly at the little boy as Kíli helped him clean up some of the stew he’d spilled over his front.

“How’d you come by a little thing like that, anyways?” Glóin asked.

“His parents died in a boating accident about a year ago,” Bilbo replied. “He was staying with some relatives of ours, but they have two boys of their own and couldn’t take care of him. So they asked if I would help and I agreed.”

“Why come here, then?” Nori asked next. “You had a home in Hobbiton. Why travel half a year to live with a bunch of grumpy old dwarves?”

Bilbo smiled as he watched Ori lift Frodo above his head with a laugh. “Because I knew we’d have a home here, too.”

\--------------------

After supper finished, Fíli and Kíli insisted on escorting Frodo and Bilbo to their rooms. Fíli pointed out several statues as they walked, explaining the stories of their ancestors to a fascinated Frodo.

“This is the Company hallway,” Kíli said when they arrived at a long, wide hall with several doors. “That’s Fíli’s room, and mine, and that’s Thorin's, and here’s yours right across from mine!” He gestured to a grand, wooden door with a grin. Bilbo had half a mind to object, but he silenced himself when he saw Kíli’s look of delight at how near Bilbo and Frodo would be to him.

“There’s a sitting room inside, and a bedroom with a bed big enough for the two of you, even though we can get a second bed later,” Fíli said as he opened the door with a shove. “Oh! And a washroom with a tub, complete with running hot water.”

“How in Eru’s name did you manage that?” Bilbo asked in shock.

“There are hot springs under the mountain,” Kíli explained. “We funnel the water in through pipes and they can fill all the tubs in the mountain. Then it filters out through the drain when you uncork it and goes back into the springs, where the hot water cleans it out again.”

“That’s amazing.” Bilbo peeked into the washroom and nearly swooned when he saw how big the sunken tub was. He could easily fit ten Hobbits in there and still have room to spare! “Is everything so large here in the mountain?”

“Dwarves like a lot of room,” Fíli replied with a dismissive wave. “Anyways, we already had all your clothes and supplies brought up, and Dori said he’d help sew some new things for you so you aren’t just stuck in the old clothes you’ve brought. After you get washed up, we usually meet in the common room down the hall to smoke and drink and tell stories every night.”

“We’ll see how tuckered out the little one is,” Bilbo replied. He bounced Frodo in his arms, but the boy was too busy staring up at the patterns on the ceiling to listen.

Kíli and Fíli took their leave soon after, and Bilbo managed to figure out how the tub worked to fill it out with steaming water. Frodo eyed the tub warily and stuck a finger in.

“Don’ wan’ a bath,” he complained.

“We haven’t properly bathed since Rivendell,” Bilbo replied. “You need a bath unless you want mushrooms to grow all over you.” He quickly undressed and stepped in the tub, then turned and helped Frodo slip his filthy clothes off. “Come here, darling, I promise I won’t let you go,” he soothed. The boy cautiously stepped to the edge of the tub and held out his arms for Bilbo to lift him in.

Frodo was still fearful of water ever since his parent’s deaths, but he was getting better about it. When they had first started their journey, the boy wouldn’t even let them go near a riverside or lakeshore. It made for finding fresh water very difficult, but Bilbo had managed. Now, at least, he was okay with baths and small pools of water. He still made sure to keep a firm grip on Bilbo whenever they were near any water. Bilbo figured that Frodo didn’t want to lose him to the water, as well.

There was a fresh bar of soap on the tub’s edge that smelled like rain and sandalwood, so Bilbo used that to scrub Frodo down. Frodo winced when a bit of soap got in his eyes, but other than that he never fussed. After Bilbo sat him on the edge of the tub, he even started splashing a bit and playing with the water while Bilbo cleaned himself.

“Alright, then, out you go,” Bilbo said once they were both scrubbed clean and fresh. “Let’s find you some pajamas, and then we’ll see about going to find the dwarves for a little bit, alright?”

“Okay.” Frodo beamed and scampered off into the bedroom. Bilbo eased himself out and wrapped a towel around himself as he followed.

Just as Fíli had said, all of their clothes were laid out on the massive bed that took up most of the room. Bilbo found a pair of trousers and a shirt for himself and a nightshirt for Frodo to slip into, and then dug into his sack for a comb to tame Frodo's curls.

“Wan’ Kíli to do it,” Frodo protested when Bilbo tried to untangle his hair. He pushed Bilbo's hand away and crossed his arms stubbornly.

Bilbo sighed and tucked the comb into his pocket. “Alright, then, come on.” Frodo smiled and hopped out of the room and down the hall, following the sounds of laughter to the common room where the other dwarves were.

A shout rose up when they arrived, and Kíli was immediately at Frodo's side. Frodo tugged on the dwarf’s trousers and stared up at him. “Wan’ you to do it,” he said insistently, pointing to the comb in Bilbo's pocket.

Kíli gave Bilbo a hopeful look, and the Hobbit sighed before producing the comb. “I see you’ve stolen my nephew already,” he mockingly griped.

Kíli lifted Frodo up and tossed him carefully in the air. He took the comb from Bilbo with a smile and a shrug. “What can I say? I’ve got magic hands when it comes to hair. Now hold still,  _gimlìth_ _,”_ he instructed Frodo. The boy obediently sat still while Kíli sat in a chair and began to comb out the curls carefully.

“He’s right,” Fíli agreed. “Only one who knows how to untangle knots without pulling or tugging too hard.”

“Maybe if your uncle lets me, I can put a braid in your curls,” Kíli told the boy as he worked.

Frodo turned to Bilbo with wide eyes. “Unca? Please?” he begged.

Bilbo smiled and sat in a chair next to them. “We’ll see, darling.”

Frodo bounced in Kíli’s lap until the dwarf settled him down with a hand to his head. After that he curled against Kíli’s chest and watched the fire.

For a while, Bilbo alternated between watching Kíli carefully brush Frodo's hair and listening to Dwalin tell a story he heard in the mines. Once Kíli was done brushing it, he looked at Bilbo and raised his eyebrows meaningfully, pointing to one of his own braids. Bilbo nodded, and Kíli beamed and began separating pieces of hair to braid.

The room grew quiet when the large wooden doors slammed open after about an hour. Bilbo stood and waited while Thorin finished speaking to one of the guards following him, suddenly nervous. As much as the other dwarves had accepted them, he knew that it all came down to whether or not Thorin wanted them to stay in his mountain. He was, after all, King of Erebor now.

Thorin turned and blinked in surprise when he saw Bilbo. “I see our burglar has returned,” he said quietly. Bilbo smiled and gave a little wave.

“And he brought a little halfling with him,” Dwalin added. He nodded towards Frodo on Kíli’s lap, who ducked his head and blushed at the attention. Thorin surveyed the boy carefully for a moment with a blank expression.

For a moment Bilbo was afraid that the dwarf was angry, but then he was pulled into familiar, strong arms as Thorin swept him into a tight hug. “Welcome back, Master Baggins,” Thorin said with a chuckle. He stepped back and clapped a hand to Bilbo's shoulder. “You and your kin are welcome here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm in real denial over here. And I read the book, so I even knew what was coming. Still in denial. So have some happy Hobbit and Dwarf family fluff. (Also, I know that in the books Frodo was like 12 when his parents drowned, but I'm doing little baby Frodo because I said so).
> 
> Khuzdul used: 'Gamut sanu yenet' means 'well met' and 'gimlìth' means 'little star'.
> 
> I swear, I'm still writing the chapters for my other fics. They're not abandoned. I swear. I just really had to start writing this because BotFA made me sad.


	2. Chapter 2

When Bilbo woke up the next morning, Frodo was curled around his arm, wrapped in a knitted blanket and hugging part of his pillow to his chest. Bilbo slid out of the enormous bed without managing to disturb the little boy’s slumber and smiled fondly down at him.

Frodo now had a single braid on the side of his head, tightly plaited and held together with a small wooden bead at the end. When Bofur had seen that Kíli was braiding the fauntling’s hair, he’d grabbed a spare piece of wood by the fireplace and quickly carved out a bead with little bear and tree designs etched into it. Kíli had woven the bead into the braid to hold it in place and Frodo had announced that he was never ever taking it out.

The door creaked open and Kíli peeked in with a smile. “Company’s meeting in the kitchen for breakfast,” he whispered. “You and the lad are welcome to join.”

Bilbo nodded and grabbed a pair of his trousers. “He’ll want to eat,” he replied. “Especially with the rest of you.”

Kíli’s smile grew and he silently closed the door behind him. Bilbo finished dressing and carefully nudged Frodo awake. “Come on, darling, there’s food waiting,” he murmured. Frodo sat up and rubbed at his eyes sleepily before holding his arms out, expecting to be held. Bilbo sighed. The dwarves had clearly spoiled him in that area already.

As they made their way towards the kitchen, Frodo played with the bead in his hair and stared down the endless tunnels, trying to peek into other rooms and caverns. Bilbo thanked his stars that they hadn’t yet found the main walkways, where one wrong move could send the boy hurdling down into the darkness of the mountain.

“Is Kíli an' Fíli up?” Frodo asked as Bilbo pushed the door for the kitchen open.

“I imagine so,” Bilbo replied. Bombur greeted him with a smile and a salute of his spoon before nodding towards the dining room, where the other dwarves were gathered. “Go on, then,” he urged when Frodo saw Kíli sitting on one of the benches. Frodo squirmed until Bilbo put him down and then toddled towards Kíli’s leg.

“Up?” Frodo asked. Kíli glanced down and melted when he saw Frodo's wide eyes. He scooped the boy up and grabbed a roll for him to munch on.

“Good morning,” Bilbo greeted as he sat down. He raised his eyebrows at Kíli meaningfully and the young dwarf flushed and patted Frodo's head. “I see you’ve let him wrap you around his finger already.”

“I have not!” Kíli protested.

Frodo held up his hands again and Kíli passed him another roll without thinking. He frowned in confusion when he realized what he’d done, and Fíli burst into laughter.

The other dwarves shuffled in soon afterwards, chattering and laughing as they came. Several of them ruffled Frodo's curls as they passed, and Bofur bent down to inspect the bead carefully.

“That’s holding up nice,” he commented. “As is expected from somethin' I made.”

“Wouldn’t have held up nearly as nice if I hadn’t braided it in so well,” Kíli shot back. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Break it up, you two,” he said. “Here, Frodo needs to eat more than just rolls.” He handed the boy a bowl of oatmeal and a small slice of ham. Frodo dug in happily, grinning up at Bilbo with stuffed cheeks.

“Today we can show you around the rest of the palace,” Fíli said excitedly. He sat across the table from Kíli and leaned across to tap Frodo on the nose with a grin. “There’s the war room, and the throne room, and the library, and the greenhouse—”

“Greenhouse?” Bilbo interrupted. “How could you possibly have a greenhouse in the middle of the mountain?”

“There’s an area carved out where they put in glass walls instead of stone,” Ori explained. “It’s been there since before Smaug arrived. We just cleaned it up afterwards and started growing some things.”

“And it actually works?”

Ori shrugged. “Dwarves aren’t exactly known for their green thumbs, but we do alright.” He shot Bilbo a sly grin and added, “It’d probably grow a lot more with a hobbit taking care of things.”

Bilbo smiled and tucked into his food with renewed vigor. “What do you think, Frodo?” he asked. “What would you like to see first?”

“Torin!” Frodo exclaimed. He banged his hands on the table and beamed at his uncle. Kíli burst out laughing.

“What did I tell you?” Fíli chuckled. “Uncle’s not going to be able to resist him, and apparently Frodo's feeling the same.”

“He’ll be in the meeting room,” Dwalin said. “Arguing with his advisors again.”

“Arguing about what?” Bilbo asked.

Dwalin shrugged and scooped a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. “Relations with the elves. Relations with the Men. All sorts of nonsense.”

“Don’t tell me he’s trying to isolate the mountain again.” After the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin had put the Arkenstone in his grandfather’s tomb, nestled away from the hands of dwarves. Bilbo had thought it would be the end of the gold sickness and greed of the dwarves of Erebor, but if it was coming back he needed to get Frodo out of there fast.

“ _He’s_ not, no,” Balin reassured. “The advisors think they’ve earned the right to tell Thorin how to run this mountain, and they’re not pleased with all his alliances with the other races.”

“Oh. Well, as long as Thorin's not giving in then it’s alright.”

“Torin,” Frodo repeated. He gave Bilbo a meaningful look and wiggled in Kíli’s lap. “Wanna see Torin.”

“Why is Uncle the new favorite?” Kíli griped. Frodo squirmed off Kíli’s lap and made his way towards the door without answering. Bilbo sighed and stood up to follow the boy with Fíli and Kíli close behind.

Thorin was in the meeting room, just as Dwalin had said. Several other dwarves sat around him, arguing loudly while Thorin listened in silence. Frodo managed to push the door open and tottered over to where the king sat, ignoring all other occupants of the room. He crawled under the table and latched onto Thorin's leg with both arms.

Bilbo considered going after the boy, but he would be much more of a disturbance than Frodo had been. Thorin simply patted Frodo’s head with one massive hand and tucked the fauntling’s braid behind his pointed ear. Frodo beamed up at him and settled down on Thorin’s boot to wait for the meeting to end.

“Our alliance with Thranduil and the wood elves is no longer necessary,” a hulking dwarf with wild blonde hair called. Bilbo rolled his eyes and slipped behind a pillar to watch. He saw Kíli and Fíli do the same, grinning and whispering to each other as they did.

“The elves have done nothing but deceive and betray us,” the blonde dwarf continued. “We have no need for them. If we attack now—”

“We are not attacking the elves,” Thorin interrupted. “As of yet they have given us no reason to go to war. Inciting a battle would be dangerous.”

“They betrayed us when Smaug attacked!” the dwarf protested.

“And that was a very long time ago,” Thorin replied. “They are not our strongest allies, nor our most trusted, but they are not our enemies.”

“They are liars and cheats,” an older dwarf insisted. “They have stolen from us once, and they will do it again!”

Bilbo felt a sense of dread shoot down his spine. He knew exactly what the dwarf was referring to—the Arkenstone and Bilbo's betrayal. He had handed the stone over to the elves and Men after Erebor had been reclaimed in an attempt to free Thorin from his gold sickness, and had been temporarily exiled from Erebor for it.

Thorin's expression darkened and he straightened in his seat. The chamber went silent, and even Kíli and Fíli ceased their murmuring to watch their uncle.

“The Arkenstone was a vile jewel that infected the minds of myself and my men,” Thorin growled. “It belongs in the bottom of the deepest ocean, and only my grandfather’s legacy keeps it in this mountain. We will not speak of it again. The matter is settled; I will not attack the elves unless we are first provoked.”

The older dwarf swallowed his fear and slowly sat back down. Bilbo hid his grin in his sleeve and saw Kíli and Fíli smirking at the advisor.

“This meeting is dismissed,” Thorin announced with finality. The advisors slowly shuffled out, some shooting dirty looks over their shoulders as they went. Thorin ignored them and leaned down to level Frodo with a stare.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Frodo giggled.

“I come see you, an’ now I hide from Unca Bilbo,” he whispered loudly. Thorin picked him up and sat him on the table in front of him. Frodo turned and waved at Bilbo. “You find me!” he squealed in excitement.

“We found you,” Bilbo replied with a smile. Kíli jumped out from behind the pillar and made his way towards the table to scoop Frodo up and place him on his shoulders carefully.

“What should we play now?” he asked. Frodo shrugged and glanced around the room.

“Where Fíli?” he demanded.

Kíli’s head shot back and forth as he gasped dramatically. “We’ve lost Fíli!” he cried out in mock panic. He set Frodo down and knelt to his level. “I think you shall have to find him, since you’re so good at hide and seek.”

Frodo tapped his chin as he looked for the blond dwarf. Bilbo saw Fíli slip further behind the pillar and hid his smile. “T’at way,” Frodo said after a moment. Bilbo saw Kíli swallow his snicker at the babe’s slight lisp concerning the letter ‘h’. Frodo paid them no mind and pointed in a random direction before bouncing off to look for his new friend. Kíli followed with a grin and a wink in Bilbo's direction.

Bilbo sat at the table beside Thorin and watched the two search the chambers. Whenever they got too close to Fíli’s hiding place, Kíli would pretend to hear something on the other side of the rom and they’d go running off again.

“Are you certain you don’t mind Frodo staying here with me?” Bilbo asked. He glanced up at Thorin nervously and saw him half-smiling as he watched his nephew play with the little boy.

“I don’t mind,” Thorin replied. “He will be… good for morale.”

Bilbo snorted and leaned back in his chair. “He’ll have Fíli and Kíli shirking all their duties to play with him, more like.”

“Fíli and Kíli are still young. They have seen too much blood and war. It will be good for them to have an innocent babe to care for.”

“I find you!” Frodo cried out. He ran forward and tackled Fíli’s leg with a squeal of delight. Fíli laughed and hoisted him into the air.

Thorin smiled and watched them play. “It will be good, too, to hear laughter in the halls of Erebor once more,” he said quietly. Bilbo smiled and silently agreed.

\--------------------

“This is a dragon,” Bofur explained. “Like the one your uncle fought off.”

“Dragon,” Frodo repeated. He held the wooden toy with both hands and inspected it carefully. “Look, Unca Bilbo.”

“I see it,” Bilbo replied. He sat next to Frodo and handed him a plate piled with food. “Here, eat up.”

“Wha's t’at?” Frodo asked, ignoring his uncle and pointing to another wooden toy. Bofur grinned and held it up for the fauntling to see it better.

“This is a troll. They’re big, stupid creatures, an' your uncle outsmarted a whole group of 'em an' turned 'em to stone.”

“Wha's t’at?”

“This is an elf. They’re big, stupid creatures, an' your uncle outsmarted a whole group of 'em—”

“For Eru’s sake, Bofur,” Bilbo laughed. He cut up the meat on Frodo's plate and stuck a fork in a piece to bring up to the boy’s lips. Frodo bit down and chewed without taking his eyes off the toy. “Frodo, don’t listen to anything dwarves say about elves. They’re very nice, remember the ones at Rivendell?”

“T’ey pretty,” Frodo nodded. Bofur groaned and rolled his eyes.

“We’ve lost him already. Such a shame,” he bemoaned.

“Torin!” Frodo cried. He ignored Bofur’s dramatics and lifted the wooden dragon high for his newfound friend to see. “Dragon.”

“Bofur’s been making toys for you, has he?” Thorin asked. He inspected the dragon carefully, checking for loose pieces of wood that might cause splinters. Bilbo smiled at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“Yes. Dragon, troll, elf.”

“Pity about the elf one.”

“T’ey pretty!”

“Thorin, come sit and eat with us,” Bilbo said. He scooted over a bit and gestured at the seat next to him. Thorin nodded gratefully and sat down next to Frodo. The fauntling immediately slid more of the wooden toys next to the dwarf king and leaned against his shoulder.

“Wha's t’at?” he asked, pointing to a new toy.

Thorin accepted the plate Bombur gave him and leaned in to inspect the toy. “That would be a bear. Did your uncle tell you about Beorn the shape-changer?”

Frodo asked Thorin questions all through dinner, and on the way to their rooms. He insisted that Thorin stay in the bedroom while Bilbo bathed him, and then called questions through the open door.

“Wha's blue rock?”

Thorin glanced over at the gem inlaid in the mirror. “It’s called a sapphire, _g_ _imlìth_.”

“Wha's t’at mean?”

“ _Gimlìth?_ It means ‘little star’.”

“Like it.”

“I like it, too,” Bilbo said with a smile. He lifted Frodo out of the tub and pulled himself out next. Thorin glanced over and eyed Bilbo's soft, hairless stomach appreciatively for an instant before turning away with a small flush.

“Then we shall continue to use it,” he replied instead.

Frodo came toddling into the bedroom, trailing the drying cloth behind him. “Wha's green rock?”

“It is an emerald.”

“Em’ald?”

“Close, darling,” Bilbo called. He entered the room, adjusting his sleep pants slightly, and smiled down at Frodo. “Are you ready for bed?”

“No!” Frodo replied with a mischievous giggle. Bilbo reached out to grab him, and he ducked away and hid behind Thorin's leg.

“Now is not the time for games, Frodo,” Bilbo warned. Frodo just giggled again and hid his head underneath the hem of Thorin's tunic.

“Can’t see me,” he called. Bilbo rolled his eyes and knelt down on his knees.

“Frodo Baggins, you get out here right now,” he warned. Thorin discreetly lifted the edge of his tunic up until Frodo's bright eyes were visible.

“You find me!” he giggled.

“Yes I did, and now it’s time for little stars to get in their nightshirts and go to bed.”

Thorin sat in an armchair and watched Bilbo wrestle Frodo into a nightshirt and tuck him into bed. Bilbo kissed the babe’s downy curls and murmured softly to him until Frodo's eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep.

“You didn’t have to stay, you know,” Bilbo said quietly. He glanced over at Thorin and gave him a small smile. “But I’m grateful you did.”

Thorin nodded and stood. “I… I will see you in the morning, then.”

Bilbo nodded and smiled again as Thorin left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Thorin leaned against the wall and sighed.

After the dwarves had reclaimed Erebor, a terrible sickness had overtaken Thorin's mind. He could only remember bits and pieces of it, but he knew that he had hurt Bilbo terribly by calling him a thief and banishing him from the mountain. And all because of one rock.

Eventually Bilbo had returned to the mountain and allowed Thorin the chance to apologize, but the dwarf still felt horribly guilty about the whole situation. He had decided then that, should Bilbo ever return to the mountain, the hobbit would be treated as an honored guest and Thorin would stop at nothing to make sure everything was perfect for him. And since Bilbo had brought Frodo with him, Thorin was bound by his promise to make sure the fauntling was safe, cared for, and happy.

\--------------------

Bilbo woke up that night to muffled whimpering. He glanced over on the bed and saw Frodo curled up underneath the blankets and quietly crying into his pillow.

“Frodo, darling, wake up,” he soothed. Frodo sniffled and curled tighter into himself, and Bilbo felt his heart clench. “Come on, sweeting, up we go.”

“Mama,” Frodo wailed loudly. Bilbo wrapped his arms around the fauntling’s body and murmured quietly while he blinked awake.

“It’s alright, darling, it’s alright,” he shushed.

Frodo sat up and rubbed his eyes dry. “I wan' Mama,” he whined.

“I know you do, dear.” Bilbo sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Come here, that’s it.” Frodo crawled into his lap and curled against his chest.

The door creaked open and Nori peeked in. “I heard a noise, is everything alright?” he asked worriedly.

Bilbo nodded and smoothed Frodo's curls. “Just a bad dream, that’s all,” he replied. Then, “Wait, why are you outside our door?”

“Orcs were seen in the area. Thorin ordered that we watch over you in shifts.” Nori shrugged and grabbed an apple from the bowl by the door. “I just do what Thorin tells me to.”

“That’s not necessary, Nori,” Bilbo argued. “Frodo and I don’t deserve any special treatment.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Nori waved off his concerns and shut the door behind him again.

“Unca Bilbo?” Frodo looked up and wiped at his eyes again. “How come Mama leave?”

Bilbo had been dreading this question. “She didn’t leave because she wanted to, Frodo,” he managed. “Never think that. Your Mama loved you with all her heart. She just… it was just her time, sweeting. Sometimes these things happen. But now I'm here, and I promise I won’t ever leave.”

“Okay,” Frodo nodded. He shifted so his head was in Bilbo's lap and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Bilbo combed his hair gently with his fingers until the babe fell asleep again.

By morning, Nori must have told the entire Company about Frodo's bad dreams. Fíli and Kíli arrived with a leather ball they had played with when they were younger and convinced Bilbo to let them run around and play with it in the throne room. Ori brought a book of fairy tales and promised that he would read a story to Frodo every night before bed. Dwalin gave Frodo a wooden sword “to fight the beasties off with”. Bofur and Bombur spent all morning after breakfast recreating their adventure to Erebor for Frodo with the numerous wooden toys Bofur had carved. And at supper that evening, the table was filled with more laughter and merriment than Bilbo had seen in a long time. By nightfall, Frodo had forgotten all about his nightmare.

Bilbo was dressing him for bed when a sharp knock sounded at the door. “It’s open,” he called without looking up. Frodo peeked over Bilbo's head and waved at the visitor.

“Torin!” he called excitedly, bouncing on the bed as he waved. Bilbo glanced up and saw the dwarf prince standing with Dori, who was clearly holding something behind his back.

“I… heard the lad had a night terror,” Dori said. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, and Bilbo wondered if it was because of the small child or being so close to Thorin. “Ori used to have frights, too,” he continued. “I made him something to help with them at night. It seemed to work while he was young. I thought I’d… I thought you could try it.” With that, he presented a small, floppy-eared stuffed rabbit with gray fur and button eyes. It looked to have been torn and patched up in several places, but the fabric was clean and Frodo was already beaming at the new toy, so Bilbo took it with a smile and handed it to the child.

“What do you say to Dori?” Bilbo reminded him as Frodo hugged the animal to his chest. Frodo looked up with wide eyes and beamed.

“T’ank you, Misser Dori,” he said shyly. Dori scratched his cheek nervously and returned the smile before excusing himself.

“You ought to name him,” Bilbo said. He shot Thorin a grin and nodded towards an armchair by the fire. Thorin sat and watched him finish dressing Frodo.

“I name him Torin,” Frodo announced. Bilbo did his best to stop the snicker that bubbled in his throat. Thorin glared at the older hobbit and leaned back in the chair.

“You’ll get the two of us confused if you name him after me,” he said. “Best to think of another name.”

“Oh.” Frodo's face scrunched in thought and he stared at the bunny. “I name him Bunny Torin,” he declared.

“What about naming him after a flower?” Bilbo suggested. He figured he should at least try to save Thorin the humiliation of having a stuffed rabbit as his namesake. Frodo blinked at him, then glanced at the bunny once more.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I name him Flower.”

Well, that wasn't exactly what Bilbo had meant, but Frodo seemed happy so it was good enough for him. “Excellent. Then you and Flower hop under those covers and get yourselves to sleep.” Frodo obliged, snuggling under the covers and staring at Thorin with wide eyes.

“Why Torin here?” he asked.

“Just to keep an eye out for monsters,” Thorin replied. He patted the blade on his hip and smiled. “No one will hurt you while I’m here.”

Frodo nodded, satisfied with the answer, and closed his eyes to sleep. Bilbo shot Thorin a look while he rubbed Frodo's stomach until the boy was asleep.

“This is about the orcs again, isn’t it?” he whispered. Thorin shrugged.

“Several were seen in the woods. I have scouts out now, but I don’t want to take chances.”

“We’ve barely been here three days, there’s no need for all this fuss.” Bilbo sat in the chair beside Thorin and crossed his arms stubbornly. “I don’t see why you feel we need bodyguards.”

“If the orcs attack, we need to be ready. It’s just a precaution, nothing to worry about.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

Thorin glared at him and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll just have to get used to it,” he replied. “It’s for Frodo's protection, you know.”

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his forehead. “There’s no getting rid of you, is there?” he asked.

“Not likely.”

“Why do you care so much about him? You hardly seem like the type to even _like_ small children.”

“I practically raised Fíli and Kíli, you know,” Thorin retorted. “And dwarfish children stay young much longer than hobbit babes. Frodo is easy compared to that nightmare.”

Bilbo snorted. “I don’t even want to imagine those two as children,” he admitted.

“I stayed in their rooms when danger was near. I figured the same protection should go to Frodo.” Thorin shifted in his chair and shrugged. “Besides, those two would never forgive me if something were to happen to their playmate.”

Despite his frustration, Bilbo smiled. “Thank you,” he told Thorin.

Thorin just stared into the fire and nodded gruffly, but Bilbo saw he was almost smiling when he glanced back to check on Frodo's sleeping form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protective Thorin does things to me. Because my headcanon is totally that he's amazing with small children and everyone's surprised but it turns out he only gets all gruff and grumpy once they're grown up. It's little kids he's good with and Frodo is his new perfect babe to spoil and protect and take care of. 
> 
> Also, if anyone has ideas for this story, just let me know. Seriously. Mi denial fic es su denial fic. 
> 
> EDIT: I added Dwalin/Ori as a ship because some people said yes and also I do what I want.


	3. Chapter 3

“He can’t go walking around the mountain in those light hobbit clothes forever,” Fíli protested. Frodo sat on his lap, sucking his thumb while he watched Bilbo bustle around the kitchen.

“The dwarrow clothes you wear are fine for you, but they’re far too rich and heavy for hobbits,” Bilbo replied. “All that fur and jewels, it’d weigh him down.”

Frodo rubbed at the fur lining Fíli’s overcoat wistfully. “Wanna fur,” he said. Fíli grinned up at Bilbo.

“See? We can get him lots of different clothes, all dwarrow made, it’ll be great.”

“I don’t want him to forget his heritage,” Bilbo replied. “Just because he’s living with dwarves doesn’t mean he’s not a hobbit, you know.”

Fíli held up his hands in surrender and picked at Frodo's clothes thoughtfully. “He will need clothes for winter soon,” he mused. “What if we could make some clothes that are dwarrow style but weren’t showy and covered in fur like ours?”

Frodo bounced and slammed his hands on the table repeatedly. “Dress like Fíli!” he exclaimed. “Dress like Torin!”

Bilbo smiled in spite of himself. “Could that be done?” he asked Bombur quietly. “All I ever seem to see is fur and gold.”

Bombur nodded and handed Bilbo a carrot to chop. “Dori’s one of the best tailors in Erebor,” he replied. “If you ask him, he’d probably make you a whole slew of clothes. And Ori knits sweaters and such, too. He’d be happy to help.”

Ori glanced up from his seat by the fire and frowned in confusion. “What would I be happy about?” he asked.

Bombur grinned at Bilbo meaningfully. “Would you knit something for Frodo?” he asked. “Poor thing’s getting cold with winter coming.”

Ori’s eyes widened in apparent horror at the thought of the boy going cold for even a second, and he hurried over to where Fíli was sitting. “I’ll need his measurements, but I can have something by tomorrow,” he promised. Frodo lifted his arms willingly and let Ori scoop him up and take him back over to the dwarf’s knitting basket.

“Want t’at color,” he said, pointing to a dark blue wool. “Like Torin’s coat.”

“I can certainly do that,” Ori replied with a smile. “I can make a blanket, too.”

“You don’t have to,” Bilbo said quickly. “Or I can pay you. I have plenty of money.”

Ori shook his head and ruffled Frodo's curls affectionately. “It’s no trouble at all,” he reassured the older hobbit. “I’ve already got a blanket started for him. I knew he’d need one eventually—winters are tough in Erebor.” He pulled out a half-finished red blanket and wrapped Frodo's legs in it. Frodo rubbed the soft wool in awe and cuddled further in the blanket as Ori resumed his knitting.

Bilbo sighed in defeat. “I can talk to Dori in the morning,” he said. “See if he’d be willing to make some clothes for him.”

As it turned out, Dori was more than willing. “I knew you’d cave and come asking eventually,” he crowed when Bilbo approached him. “I’ve got three tunics already in the works and some leggings to go with them. Simple, plain colors, no gold thread or fur, though I can’t imagine why you’d want something that boring.”

Bilbo smiled. “Hobbits are simple creatures,” he replied. “We don’t need things like that. We thrive on simple comforts, nothing more.”

Dori shrugged and muttered something about “bewildering hobbits”. Bilbo ignored him and went to find his nephew.

Frodo was sitting on the steps leading up to Thorin's throne with Fíli and Kíli. He waved to his uncle when Bilbo arrived and pointed excitedly to the table where Thorin was gathered with his advisors once more. Bilbo crept around them and knelt next to the fauntling.

“And what exactly are you doing in the throne room?” he asked in a low voice. Frodo held up one of the little wooden toys Bofur had made him and grinned.

“We playin’ make pretend,” he explained. Kíli and Fíli held up their own figurines before going back to pretend fighting.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” Bilbo asked.

“Uncle Thorin didn’t say otherwise,” Kíli said. “He just opened the door when Frodo knocked and brought him over here to play.”

Bilbo glanced over at Thorin, who was currently in the middle of a heated argument with one of the advisors. They were speaking Khuzdul so Bilbo couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but Thorin looked about ready to rip someone’s head off so Bilbo guessed it wasn’t a pleasant topic.

Fíli grimaced when one of the advisors shouted a particularly harsh word. “Uncle had better throw his ass out of this throne room before I do it myself,” he muttered. Bilbo sat next to Frodo on the steps and watched him play.

“What did he say?” he asked Fíli quietly.

Fíli stroked Frodo's curls back carefully. “Just… some unkind words concerning you and Frodo. Some people aren’t happy that you’ve shown up uninvited and are living in the palace with us.”

“We can move if that would make things easier,” Bilbo offered.

From across the room, Thorin turned and glared at Bilbo. “I will not have you move out of the palace,” he called. “You are staying put and that’s _final_.”

Bilbo held up his hands in compliance and turned back to Frodo. The little boy was sitting on the steps now, playing with his stuffed rabbit happily. He heard Thorin resume his argument in Khuzdul and sighed.

“Not to worry, Uncle will take care of everything,” Kíli grinned.

“I wish he wouldn’t fuss over us so much,” Bilbo replied. “It’s really not necessary.”

“Uncle thinks it is. And Uncle is always right. Besides, you earned a place among us when you joined our quest.”

“Enough!” Thorin shouted suddenly. Frodo's head shot up and he whimpered quietly. Bilbo pulled him into his lap and kissed his head.

“It’s alright, darling, Thorin wasn’t yelling at you,” he soothed. “Just some mean old dwarves, that’s all.”

“Why Torin mad?” Frodo asked.

Kíli handed him a wooden eagle and patted his head. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with, _gimlìth_ ,” he said. “Here, I’ll tell you the story of how the eagles saved us from the nasty orcs.”

Frodo went willingly into Kíli’s lap and handed him the wooden eagle, and Bilbo sat back and watched Kíli lull the fauntling to sleep with his story.

After a while, Thorin dismissed his advisors and stalked over to the steps where they were sitting. “They mean to throw you and the boy out,” he growled. “I told them they could _ishkh khakfe andu null_.” Bilbo wasn’t sure what that mean, but it didn’t sound overly pleasant.

“Such a pleasant disposition you have, Uncle,” Kíli said dryly. Frodo shifted in his sleep and Thorin immediately reached out and scooped the little boy up into his arms.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said to Bilbo. “Do not give them any reason to think otherwise.”

Bilbo knew when he was beaten in a fight. “Alright, but I don’t want to keep hearing about all these luxuries and surprises you and your Company have planned,” he warned. “Hobbits are supposed to be simple creatures, remember?”

Thorin frowned. “You should not want for anything while you are here,” he replied. “I am assuring that is so.”

“What you’re doing is spoiling him.”

“He deserves to be spoiled a bit,” Fíli protested. “Just look at his face!”

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his temples. “Just because he looks at you a certain way doesn’t mean you have to fall on bended knee to see to his every whim,” he muttered.

“But… but look at his face!”

\--------------------

That night, Frodo played with Flower at Ori’s feet by the fireplace while the young dwarf finished a blue sweater for him. Bofur sat beside Frodo and offered him wooden toys when he asked for one, and occasionally even Dori would lean down and gently correct the boy when he mispronounced a word.

Bilbo was in awe. As it turned out, the band of drunken, boisterous dwarves were softer than dough in his nephew’s hands. Even Dwalin seemed to relax with the babe near. It was incredible.

“Have you ever seen them so calm?” he asked Thorin quietly. Thorin sipped his drink and grinned.

“Never in all the years I’ve known them,” he replied. “Your nephew has a gift for dwarf-taming, apparently.”

“Unca Bilbo, look!” Frodo bounded over with Ori’s sweater in his hands. “It’s soft. An’ all for me!”

“And did you thank Ori for the sweater?” Bilbo asked. Frodo nodded and tugged the sweater over his head.

“T’ank you, Misser Ori,” he repeated once his head was free. Bilbo helped him with the armholes while Frodo stroked the wool carefully. “I never ever take it off,” he said to Bilbo.

“We’ll see about that,” Bilbo replied. “Come on, then, it’s time for little ones to go to bed.” Frodo nodded and ran over to grab his rabbit. He glanced up shyly and quickly hugged Ori’s leg before running towards Bilbo again. Bilbo saw Ori blush and stare down at his lap and smiled.

“That was very good of you to hug Ori like that,” he murmured to Frodo as they made their way to the bedchamber. “You’ll have to do the same for Dori when he makes your other clothes, alright?”

“Yes,” Frodo agreed. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and settled Flower in the crook of Bilbo's arm so he could turn and wave at the dwarves with his free hand.

Bilbo grinned when several of them waved back. “We’ve only been here three months, and you’ve already got every dwarf in this mountain wrapped around your finger,” he scolded mockingly. “You ought to slow down before all of Middle Earth is bowing to your whim.”

“No,” Frodo shook his head and giggled.

“No? You’re going to take over the whole kingdom, then?”

“Yes. Me an’ Flower.”

“Well, something tells me Thorin would let you.”

Frodo's new dwarf clothes arrived three days later, and Bilbo had to admit that they looked very nice on him. Dori had made several long tunics in different colors, and brown thick leggings to go with. Dori had wanted to find someone who would make shoes for the boy, but Bilbo had put his foot down on that. Hobbits did _not_ wear shoes, no matter where they lived.

“I look like Torin,” Frodo said as he admired himself in front of the mirror. He was wearing his new blue sweater from Ori and a pair of Dori’s leggings, and with the braid in his hair he almost looked like a dwarf child. Bilbo smiled and scooped Frodo up to take him down to breakfast.

Thorin met them outside and grabbed Bilbo's elbow. “Come, you’re eating in my rooms,” he said quietly. Bilbo looked up at the king and saw he was glaring at every dwarf that happened to cross their path.

“Is something the matter?” Bilbo asked.

“Orcs were sighted,” Thorin said simply. Bilbo sighed and managed to get his arm out of Thorin's grip.

“I told you, we don’t need special treatment. If everyone else is in the kitchen, then that’s where we’ll eat.”

Thorin gently took Bilbo's arm again and patted Frodo's head, discreetly covering his ear as he did. “Orcs were sighted only a few hours from here. The other dwarves are preparing for battle.”

“Then I’ll join you,” Bilbo replied.

Thorin shook his head. “You have a child to care for,” he insisted. “Let us handle it.”

“Glóin has a son, and plenty of other dwarves here have families.” Bilbo shouldered past Thorin and stormed into the king’s room angrily. “I have as much right to help you defend this mountain as any dwarf. I was here when you reclaimed it, if you remember.”

Thorin smiled and laid a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. “I never meant to suggest that you had no right. But Frodo has already lost enough family, don’t you think?”

Bilbo shook his head and set Frodo in a large, plush chair. Frodo immediately grabbed at the food laid out and set about devouring it. “I want to help,” he told Thorin quietly. “Let me help in some way.”

Thorin sighed and glared out the window. “Alright,” he conceded after a moment. “But not in the thick of battle. Óin will need help in the medical tents, you can help there.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo smiled up at Thorin and bent down to kiss Frodo's head. “Darling, Thorin and I are going off for a little bit. I need you to stay in Thorin's rooms here, alright?” Frodo nodded and stared up at Bilbo and Thorin. He swallowed the food in his mouth and held up his arms. Bilbo immediately bent to pick him up.

“You come back?” Frodo asked nervously. Bilbo kissed the fauntling’s forehead and smiled reassuringly.

“Of course we’ll come back,” he promised.

“And someone will be just outside the door in case you should need anything,” Thorin added. “All you have to do is knock twice. Can you do that?”

Frodo nodded and leaned down to knock twice on the table. Thorin smiled and ruffled Frodo's curls. “Very good,” he praised. Frodo's cheeks flushed with pride and he wriggled to be let down again.

Thorin guided Bilbo out silently and nodded to the guard standing outside his door. “Make sure no harm comes to the boy,” he murmured. The guard nodded back and straightened up in a threatening stance.

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave Frodo alone in there?” Bilbo asked. He glanced worriedly back at the closed door as he followed Thorin down the passageway.

“Gideth is one of Dáin’s finest warriors,” Thorin replied. “Frodo will be absolutely safe.”

Four hours later, the dwarves returned to their mountain bloody but victorious. Bilbo set to work immediately with Óin instructing him, and soon every wound was cleaned and bandaged and the seriously wounded dwarves were resting in the area Óin had claimed as his healing room.

Thorin only suffered minor wounds, and it wasn’t long before he was storming about the palace, shouting commands to secure the area and add defenses to the mountain. Bilbo hovered around him and waited for a lull in the chaos to re-bandage his wounds.

“You’re tearing your stitches,” he complained as he worked. Thorin just grunted and continued to study his maps until Bilbo shoved his shoulder. “Are you even listening to me?”

“What would you have me do?” Thorin replied. “I have a mountain to defend, and warriors to lead.”

“That doesn’t mean you should sit around and bleed out while you shout at your subjects,” Bilbo grumbled. “You need to take better care of yourself if you want to stay king for longer than a year.”

Thorin opened his mouth to argue, but a thumping at the door made him pause. One of the guards pulled the heavy wooden door open and Frodo came sprinting in.

“Torin!” he cried when he saw the king. “I find you!” The guard assigned to watch him, Gideth, appearing at the door a moment later looking harried.

“I’m afraid he insisted on seeing you, Your Majesty,” he said. Bilbo grinned.

“Does that mean he snuck past you and came racing here first chance he got?” he asked. The dwarf looked down guiltily.

“Never mind, Gideth, you may return to your duties,” Thorin said. The guard bowed and quickly left while Thorin turned his attention to the boy who was currently bouncing on his boot. “You were supposed to stay put,” he chided.

Frodo frowned up at him. “But I find you,” he insisted.

“We weren’t playing hide-and-seek, _gimlìth.”_

“I was!” 

“Never mind, there’s no arguing with him,” Bilbo said with a smile. “He’s here now and he’s not going to stop bouncing on you until you pick him up.” Thorin obliged and Frodo immediately turned to rest his back against Thorin's chest. He set Flower on top of the table and pointed to a spot on the map.

“Wha's t’at?”

\--------------------

Thorin had absolutely no idea why Frodo had attached to him.

Bilbo had said that the boy looked up to him, but Thorin couldn’t think of a single thing he had done that would inspire awe. He had been captured by elves, succumbed to the gold-sickness, and practically _thrown_ Bilbo off the mountain all because of some worthless, shining rock. He hadn’t even killed the dragon.

It was despicable, really.

But Frodo had been adamant about spending as much time as possible around Thorin, and the longer he and Bilbo stayed here, the harder Thorin found it to refuse the lad of anything. He even let Frodo stay in the throne room during his many diplomatic meetings, provided that he stay quiet and behind the throne.

Unfortunately, Frodo rarely listened to directions.

At the current moment, he was seated proudly on Thorin's lap while a bewildered advisor attempted to ignore the quiet humming the boy was making while he played with his stuffed rabbit.

“We must consider the possibility of allying ourselves with the wood-elves,” the advisor said.

“I will not make friendly with a bunch of elves,” Thorin bit out. “They are not our enemies, but those dainty-fingered tree-huggers are not our friends, either.” Frodo giggled at the insult and resumed his humming. Thorin poked his side once and the boy hummed slightly louder, disrupting the advisor even more.

“I simply… what I mean is… Mahal’s beard!” He groaned in frustration as Frodo's humming increased in volume with every subtle poke Thorin delivered to his side. “Is there no where else the boy can go?”

“Not at the current moment,” Thorin replied coolly. “Is there a problem, Gorín?”

The advisors had long since learned not to insult either hobbit residing in the mountain, as the last unlucky dwarf who had tried that had been tied down and shaven clean for a month straight. Gorín just swallowed and rubbed his temples.

“Perhaps we should reconvene at a later time, then.” With that, Thorin stood and slung Frodo over his shoulder. The fauntling giggled and waved goodbye to the advisors as Thorin carried him out.

“Do it again,” Frodo said once they reached the kitchen. Thorin slung the boy down and carefully deposited him on a bench next to Bofur.

“Did the meetin’ end early, then?” Bofur asked. He slid a plate of bread and cheese over to Frodo, who dug in happily.

“The advisors were apparently distracted by Frodo. I had no choice but to end the meeting early,” Thorin said.

Bofur grinned and stole a slice of cheese from Frodo's plate. “Sometimes I think you just let him into that throne room ‘cause you know he’ll end up disruptin’ the meetin’ an’ give you an excuse to leave.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bilbo swept in carrying a plate full of sliced bread and groaned when he saw Thorin. “Don’t tell me you used my nephew as an excuse to end a meeting with your advisors early again.”

“I got cheese, Unca Bilbo!” Frodo held up a slice triumphantly. “An’ Torin let me sit on his lap, an’ I played wi’ Flower!”

Thorin just shrugged and took a slice of bread from the plate Bilbo was carrying. “It isn’t my fault that he follows me everywhere I go,” he said. "I simply use it to my advantage."

“I help Torin,” Frodo added. Thorin nodded and stroked Frodo's curls.

“You certainly did, _gimleluh,”_ he murmured.

He had no idea why Frodo had attached to him. But he did know that the boy made him more content than he had been in a very long time.

\--------------------

Frodo liked Thorin. He liked his long hair and fancy braids, and the way his eyes were as blue as his papa’s had been. He liked that Thorin was always warm and fuzzy when he wore his fur coat. He liked that Thorin's laugh always rumbled down deep in his belly, and when Frodo sat on his lap he could feel it in his own tummy sometimes.

Frodo especially liked Thorin's stories. Sometimes, when Unca Bilbo was busy in the kitchens or talking to one of the other dwarves, Frodo would go find Thorin and would sit on his lap and kick his feet until Thorin put down whatever he was doing and wrapped him up in his big arms and told him stories about his family, or his grandfather, or what he and Unca Bilbo and the other dwarves did on their adventure. Frodo's favorite story was the one about Thorin and his brother Frerin and the time they accidentally cut off their sister Dís’s beard and she was mad at them for a whole three months.

Frodo was pretty sure that ladies didn’t have beards, but he figured maybe lady dwarves were different. Sometimes Frodo wondered if lady-beards would be fuzzier than man-beards. He wanted to meet Dís and find out.

But he liked Thorin best because sometimes, when Thorin smiled a certain way that made his blue eyes sparkle or laughed deep in his belly, Frodo could close his eyes and pretend Thorin was his papa. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul used:  
> -'ishkh khakfe andu null' I'm pretty sure basically means 'eat my shit' or 'shit on the head of your grandfathers' or something. All I know for sure is it's an insult and Thorin likes using it.  
> -'gimleluh' means 'my star of stars'
> 
> Because Thorin and Frodo would be adorable together (and I was rewatching Lord of the Rings and noticed that Frodo's eyes were as blue as Thorin's had been and of course that led to sadness so I had to put it in). Also, it's ridiculous how many kudos this has gotten— especially after only three chapters! In short, I love you all.
> 
> Once again, mi denial fic es su denial fic. If you have any suggestions, let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

One day after Bilbo and Frodo had been at Erebor for about four months, Bilbo woke up to an empty bed.

He didn’t panic. Sure, he might have been breathing a little faster and worrying that his sweet boy had fallen over one of the edges of the walkways down into the depths of the mountain, and perhaps he ran a bit faster than was normal, but he absolutely did not panic.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry long. Bofur happened to catch him in the hallway, took one look at him, and pointed down the hall.

“Frodo's in the sitting room,” he said immediately. Bilbo sighed in relief and went to find the boy.

At this time of morning, the room was nearly empty. Bilbo had been informed that this particular room was meant for dwarves of the Company and their families only, so it was never too loud or too crowded. It made sense that Frodo would come here. What was odd was whom he had found for a companion.

“Yer holdin’ the sword all wrong, lad,” Dwalin chastised gently. He gently righted Frodo's grip and leaned back. “There. Now try a swing.”

Frodo swung the sword hard and nearly fell on his back at the shifting weight. Dwalin grinned and put a hand on his back to steady him. “Easy there, gently does it,” he said. “Yer no’ hackin’ a tree down.”

“Unca Bilbo, look!” Frodo cried when he saw Bilbo. “Misser Dwalin teach me swords.”

“I see, darling,” Bilbo replied. He smiled at Dwalin and knelt beside the two. “Did you thank him for teaching you?”

Frodo nodded furiously and pointed to Flower, who was sitting proudly beside Dwalin. “I gave him Flower,” he said enthusiastically. “But Misser Dwalin let me keep him.”

“I’ve no use fer stuffed bunnies,” Dwalin said. He stood and took the wooden sword from Frodo to store it above the fireplace. “That’s enough trainin’ fer now, I think. Time to find some grub fer us to eat, hmm?”

“Yes.” Frodo grabbed his rabbit and bounded for the door happily, dragging Bilbo behind him as he went.

Dwalin trailed behind them, glaring at any dwarf that gave them a second glance. Bilbo hid his grin and arched an eyebrow at his friend. “Any reason you’re particularly grumpy today?” he teased.

“I have no idea wha’ yer talkin’ about,” Dwalin growled.

Frodo stopped and held up his arms for Bilbo to pick him up. “Misser Ori came an’ say hi to me an’ Misser Dwalin got all grouchy,” he said in a loud whisper. Dwalin glared at him and pushed the kitchen door open.

“The lad’s makin’ up stories,” he grumbled. Bilbo smiled and kissed Frodo's head.

“I believe you, darling,” he whispered. Frodo giggled and waved at Fíli and Kíli as they sat at the table beside him and Bilbo.

“What do you believe him about?” Fíli asked.

“Misser Dwalin got grouchy ‘cause Misser Ori say hi to me. Do Misser Dwalin not like Misser Ori?”

Kíli grinned and ruffled Frodo's curls. “I think Dwalin likes Ori too much, is the problem.” Frodo frowned in confusion, but Kíli just laughed and passed him a plate of eggs.

As if on cue, Ori arrived with his brothers and sat across from Bilbo and Frodo with a shy smile. Frodo bounced on Bilbo's lap until Bilbo let him down, and then ran around the table towards Ori.

“Misser Ori, you say you tell me stories today!” Frodo insisted. Ori smiled and leaned down to scoop Frodo up and set him on the bench beside him.

“I did promise you,” he agreed. “But you’ll have to ask your uncle if you can come to the library with me.”

“Unca Bilbo, please? Please, please, please—”

Bilbo smiled and shushed Frodo gently. “Of course you can go with Ori,” he replied. “As long as you’re very good for him.”

“Yes.” Frodo hugged Ori’s arm and beamed up at him. “I’m good,” he promised. Ori chuckled and smoothed back Frodo's curls.

Dwalin returned from the kitchen and dropped a platter of food in front of Frodo. “Here, young warriors need to eat,” he growled. Frodo's eyes widened dramatically before he dug in like a starved animal.

\--------------------

Now that Bilbo was free for an entire afternoon, he quickly found out that he was utterly bored without Frodo around now. After Ori and Frodo left for the library, Bilbo sat around in the kitchen and watched Bombur work on supper. “Is there… anything I can do to help?” he asked after an hour. “Anything at all?”

“Nothing I can think of,” Bombur replied. He paused and gave Bilbo a meaningful glance. “But if you’re looking for something to do, Thorin might need your help.”

Bilbo shot up and nodded in thanks before racing for the throne room. He could hear Bombur laughing behind him as he ran.

Thorin was already sitting inside with his advisors, shouting in Khuzdul, so Bilbo waited behind a pillar and watched them argue. He had no idea what they were saying, but Thorin looked furious. Finally, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand and sat heavily in his chair. Bilbo waited until the door ad closed behind he came out from his hiding place.

“Bombur said you might need some help,” he started. Thorin looked up and smiled wearily, so Bilbo figured his presence was welcome. “It occurs to me that I have no idea what to do with time alone anymore. I’ve been taking care of Frodo for so long I’m completely bored without him.”

“If you’d like, you could help me sort out finances,” Thorin offered. “I fear that might be just as boring, though.”

Bilbo shrugged and pulled out a chair beside Thorin. “It’s better than anything I have planned.” With that, he sat down and pulled a stack of papers towards him to begin sorting.”

“Where is the fauntling?” Thorin asked as they worked.

Bilbo handed him a file and smiled. “Ori promised to tell him stories today, and I'm afraid Frodo took that to mean _all_ day. So he’s in the library with Ori now.”

Thorin looked up and frowned. “Did they take a guard with them?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I didn’t see them take one, but it’s nothing to worry about. Ori’s a member of your Company, he’s as good a guard as any.”

“Ori was the _scribe_ for our journey.”

“The scribe who could handle Dwalin’s war hammer with ease,” Bilbo replied. “He _can_ take care of himself, you know.”

Thorin grunted and fell into silence. The pair worked for a while until Bilbo looked up again. “What were you and the advisors arguing about this time?” he asked.

“They wish for me to have an heir,” Thorin replied curtly.

Bilbo frowned. “I thought Fíli was your heir,” he said.

“He is. They want a direct descendant from my line.”

“I don’t understand.”

Thorin smiled sardonically and shrugged. “They wish for me to marry and have sons of my own.”

“Can they do that?” Bilbo asked in shock. “Can they just… force you to marry?”

“It is not unheard of. But I have already named Fíli as my rightful heir. To take that back now would be a grave insult, even if it is not intended to be one. The advisors can gripe all they want, but I am the King. They cannot force me to do anything.”

“What will they do if you don’t marry?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin shrugged again. “It is not unheard of for a king to rule alone. They could attempt to dethrone me and put Dáin as the ruler of Erebor—”

“I won’t allow it.”

Thorin grinned and cocked an eyebrow in Bilbo's direction. “ _You_ won’t allow it?” he asked.

Bilbo nodded firmly and handed back the last of the papers. “You’re a good man, and a great king, and you fought for this mountain and no one should be able to take it away from you.”

Thorin's smile turned soft and he nodded in thanks. He opened his mouth to respond, but a desperate wail cut him off. Bilbo whirled around and gasped. “Dear Eru, that’s Frodo's voice,” he whispered.

Thorin was up and out of the room before Bilbo could react. He stormed through the halls, following the crying and shoving anyone that dared get in his way. Fortunately, several guards saw the look on his face and pointed him further down the hall.

Inside a small room, Frodo was sitting on the floor, wailing and clutching his small rabbit. Bilbo immediately rushed towards him and scooped him up.

“Shh, don’t cry, darling,” he said soothingly. Frodo hiccupped and curled into the crook of Bilbo's neck. “Did you get lost, Frodo?”

The fauntling nodded. “I was lookin’ for you an’ Torin an' I got here an’ you wasn’t here an’ t'is room is cold,” he whimpered.

“Why were you looking for us?” Bilbo asked. Frodo wiped his face and looked up sadly while Bilbo stroked his back in soft, soothing circles.

“Ori fell asleep an’ he won’t wake up,” he whined. “He was readin’ me a story an’ a man came an’ Ori tell me to run, an’ when I came back Ori was sleepin’ an’ he won’t wake up to play with me.”

Thorin turned and raced out the door again, ignoring Bilbo's shouts behind him. He shouted for several guards to follow him and stormed into the library, pushing past several dwarves who were gathered in a loose circle.

Ori was lying on his side, unconscious in a small pool of blood. Thorin knelt beside him and felt for a pulse, praying he would find something there. He sighed when he felt a faint fluttering. “Find Óin!” he called. “Tell him to meet us in Ori’s rooms. You two, help me move him.” Carefully, they lifted him up and carried him down the hall and into his rooms.

Bilbo met them there with Frodo tucked in his arms. Nori and Dori were already pacing nervously by the bed. “How did this happen?” Dori asked when he saw them. Thorin waited until Ori was situated on the bed comfortably before he turned back to the brothers.

“Frodo said a man came and Ori told him to run,” he said quietly. “When Frodo returned, Ori was already unconscious.”

“Do you think it was an intruder?” Nori asked. “No one would want to hurt Ori otherwise.”

“He’s got a nasty blow to the head, but other than that he seems fine,” Óin interrupted. “Although there is some blood on his hands that doesn’t look to be his.”

“Maybe Ori got the attacker. Scratched him or something,” Nori guessed.

As if on cue, a guard came rushing in with two more behind him. “My king, we found the attacker,” he panted. “He was unconscious, hidden in the bookshelves. There’s a large gash on his abdomen.”

Bilbo glanced over to Ori. “Apparently he got in more than just a scratch,” he said.

The rest of the Company arrived quickly after the news began to spread. Fíli and Kíli made sure Ori was alright before the brothers scooped Frodo out of Bilbo's arms and sat on the floor with him to finish the story Ori had been telling. Bifur, Glóin, and Bofur only stayed long enough to make sure everyone was alright before they headed out as extra security in case there were more intruders within the mountain, and Bombur brought stew for dinner in a large pot for everyone who wished to stay in Ori’s room until he woke up.

“Where’s Dwalin and Balin?” Bilbo asked Thorin quietly after a few hours. The two brothers were the only ones from the Company that hadn’t made an appearance yet, and Bilbo couldn’t help but worry about his friends. “Should someone check on them to make sure they weren’t attacked, as well?”

Thorin shook his head, keeping his eyes on Frodo as he played on the floor. “Balin left early this morning to meet with Bard in Dale. And I suspect Dwalin is interrogating the attacker while he still draws breath.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Bilbo asked in alarm. “Shouldn’t he have a trial or something?”

Thorin grinned bitterly. “Something tells me Ori already killed him for us,” he admitted. “It’s just taking a while for the beardless tree-humper to die from his wounds. In the mean time, he can provide us with some helpful information as to why he attacked Frodo and Ori.”

Hearing his name, Frodo stood up and toddled over to Thorin's legs. “Up?” he asked. Thorin picked him up instantly and set him on his lap, where Frodo curled into his beard and settled in for a nap.

Bilbo smiled in spite of everything that was happening. “He’s certainly taken a liking to you,” he whispered.

Thorin stroked the child’s curls and leaned back in his chair. “He is a good lad,” he replied quietly. “He should not have seen what happened today.”

“I don’t think he really understands it. He seems to think Ori’s just sleeping on him.”

“Still, he will remember it,” Thorin said. “Something like that you do not forget.”

Bilbo wanted to ask him to elaborate, but something in Thorin's eyes stopped him. Instead, he stood up with a sigh and went to see if Óin needed any help.

\--------------------

Frodo stayed in Thorin's lap for the rest of the night. When the sun fell and the room grew cold Thorin draped the fauntling in his fur coat and added more wood to the fire, but other than that he stayed in his chair and watched the other dwarves fuss over Ori. Apparently Dwalin had gotten enough information out of the attacker before he died to learn that he was a dwarf from the Iron Hills who wanted Dáin to rule and had decided that the only way to do it was to kill everyone in the Company to ensure no one else took the throne after he killed Thorin.

“Not that it surprises me,” Dwalin grumbled as he collapsed in a chair across from Thorin. “Always thought that bastard was a bit off. Knew I shouldn’t have put him on the guard.”

“Don’t blame yourself. And don’t curse around the boy,” Thorin cautioned. Dwalin just grunted and slouched lower in his seat.

Ori broke out into a fever in the middle of the night and sent the Company into another panic. Óin and Bilbo stayed with him well into the night before Dori finally managed to get Bilbo to rest on the couch by the fire.

“Is Ori okay?” Frodo asked tiredly Thorin once Bilbo had collapsed and fallen asleep.

Thorin sighed and combed his fingers in Frodo's hair. “I am sure he’ll be fine, _gimlìth_ ,” he said. “You should sleep now.”

“Mmkay.” Frodo settled into the crook of his arm and clutched his rabbit. Thorin spread his coat over the boy and leaned back a bit so he could get comfortable. Within seconds his eyelids were drooping steadily down.

“Goodnight, _gimleluh,”_ Thorin murmured. Frodo giggled tiredly.

“T’at’s a silly word,” he whispered.

“Yes it is. Now sleep.”

Frodo cuddled further into the coat and closed his eyes. “G’night, Papa,” he whispered. With that, he fell fast asleep.

Thorin felt his heart stutter, but he didn’t dare panic for fear it would wake the boy. He looked at Dwalin frantically and glared at him when the dwarf nearly choked on his laughter.

“What a sight the two o’ you make,” Dwalin gasped. He hunched over and did his best to quiet his laughs before he woke Frodo or Bilbo up. “An’ of all the dwarves in the mountain he called _you_ ‘papa’.”

“Shut it.” Thorin kicked his shin hard and settled back in the chair. “He was just tired.”

“Sure he was.” Dwalin snorted and stood up with a stretch. “I’ll go see if I can drag Dori away from Ori’s side long enough to sleep.”

Thorin smirked as his friend passed. “Sure you don’t just want some alone time with Ori?” he teased.

“Shut it.”

When Frodo woke the next morning, he seemed to have no memory of calling Thorin ‘papa’ the night before. He insisted he should sit next to Ori on the bed while he ate breakfast, and afterwards he draped himself over Ori’s legs and pouted up at Thorin.

“When Ori wake up?” he asked.

“Soon. You need to be patient.”

“But he promise me a story.”

“What if I told you one instead?” Thorin offered.

Frodo considered it for a moment before nodding, and Thorin scooped him off the bed and into the chair next to Thorin's. Thorin grabbed the book of tales that Bilbo and Frodo had been reading from and flipped to a random page.

“…and then the little frog bounced to his pond and— how in Mahal’s name can you read this drabble? Frogs and butterflies and talking mice? This is disgraceful to my mountain and I won’t allow it.”

Frodo giggled and kicked his legs. “I like t’at story,” he said.

“No self-respecting warrior should ever be read this. There must be another story more suitable.” Thorin flipped through the pages some more, grunting in frustration when he found nothing. “Which story do you like best?”

“Flower one.”

“Flower?” Thorin frowned and flipped through the book. “There isn’t one with any flowers in it.”

“He means the one about his stuffed toy,” Ori mumbled from the bed. Dori and Nori shot up from their chairs nearby and were at Ori’s bedside before Thorin could even react. Dori fussed over him while Nori clapped his shoulder and congratulated him on taking down the attacker, and then they parted so Frodo could leap onto the bed and lie down next to Ori.

Frodo grabbed at the book until Thorin handed it over, then promptly handed it to Ori. “You read story now,” he insisted. Ori grinned and flipped to a page groggily.

“I can do that,” he replied. “Is everyone else alright?” he asked Thorin.

Thorin nodded and smiled at the scribe. “You saved many lives,” he said. “That was very brave of you.” Ori flushed with pride and glanced back at the book.

“Yes. Well. I was just thinking of Frodo,” he admitted. Frodo wiggled and tapped the book, and Ori chuckled tiredly. “Alright, I'm getting to it,” he assured the boy. “One day, there was a little rabbit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring some Dwalin teaching swords and then some Ori feels because they're super cute and I can't wait to get them together. Also 'papa' Thorin strikes again. Also, no, this attack isn't a one-time thing. Trouble is brewing in the mountain now...


	5. Chapter 5

It took three weeks for Ori to finally be allowed out of bed. It would have been half as short, but Dori insisted that his brother was growing feverish, and Óin had believed him and ordered further bedrest. It was only Ori’s insistence that he might go insane if he stayed in his bed a minute longer that finally got him released.

“Breakfast!” Frodo cheered as he dragged Ori down the hall towards the kitchen. Bilbo followed close behind and shook his head with a smile.

“Calm down, Frodo, you’ll tear Ori’s arm off and then he’ll have to go back to bed,” he chided. Frodo immediately skidded to a halt and waited impatiently for Ori and Bilbo to catch up. “There’s a good lad.”

“C’mon,” Frodo whined. He hopped up and down and shook Ori’s arm. “We hafta get dere ‘fore Kíli ‘cause he take all t'e sausage again.”

“Well, in that case we’d better hurry.” Ori scooped Frodo up and settled him in his arms. “Afterwards would you like to come with me down to the library? I need to check and make sure the assistants haven’t burned it down.”

“Yes. An’ t'en we go find Torin.”

“I think Thorin's too busy with his advisors for us to go visit him today,” Bilbo replied. “Remember? He said he was going to be gone all day long.”

“All day?” Frodo asked incredulously.

Bilbo nodded and did his best to look contrite. “I suppose you’ll have to wait until this evening to see him.”

Frodo thought the idea over for a moment before shaking his head, dark curls bouncing against his forehead. “Torin wanna see me,” he said firmly. “We go find him.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to try again, but Ori suddenly took a sharp right turn into a crevice in the wall and pulled Bilbo along with him. “Please stay quiet,” he said urgently. Bilbo nodded and peeked from around the corner.

“Who are we hiding from?” Bilbo asked. “Did you see one of the dwarves who attacked you?”

“Dwalin’s making his rounds,” Ori replied with a soft sigh. “He’ll pass by in a moment.”

Bilbo arched an eyebrow and stared at the young dwarf. “And why are we hiding from Dwalin?”

Ori shrugged and scuffed his feet nervously. “I’m really not supposed to tell you,” he muttered.

“If this is one of those ‘dwarven ancient secrets’ I keep hearing about, I will not be pleased. I’m living with dwarves and intend to do so for quite some time, I think I’m entitled to share in some of your customs,” Bilbo huffed. “It’s bad enough you have an entire language that I'm forbidden to learn.”

Ori sighed and glanced around the corner, presumably to check for Dwalin. “He’s gone now, we can go to the kitchens,” he said quietly. “I’ll explain it there.”

They moved quickly towards the kitchen in case Dwalin returned to the hallway, and Ori waited until Frodo was settled in his chair and was happily munching on rolls before he spoke again.

“I’m assuming that hobbit customs are very different from ours in many ways,” he started. “Including relationships. What we do—it’s different from every other race in Middle Earth. It’s unique to dwarves and dwarves alone, so we keep it very secretive. You have to promise not to share this with anyone.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement, and Ori sat in his chair and twitched his fingers nervously.

“It’s like this, then,” he said finally. “Dwarves live a very long time—about three hundred years or so, usually. And dwarves are very… protective, let’s say, about certain things. Gold, and property, and family. And the people they love.”

“So you and Dwalin… are in love?” Bilbo guessed.

Ori shook his head quickly, then paused and shrugged. “It’s more than that,” he replied. “It’s… well, we call them our Ones. When you meet someone, and you love them so fiercely it almost consumes you. You become more protective, sometimes even possessive. It’s… like gold-sickness, without all the killing and insanity. It just consumes you.”

Bilbo handed Frodo another roll and said, “So you and Dwalin are each other’s Ones?”

“He’s my One, at least.” Ori sighed and the look in his eyes grew wistful. “I don’t think I’m his,” he confessed.

Bilbo _tsked_ and patted Ori’s hand. “I know it must be very hard, but I promise you’ll find someone else,” he tried.

Ori shook his head. “That’s not how Ones work. Dwarves… they’re so different because they only love like that once. It never happens twice, not in the rest of their three hundred years.”

“You only get one?” Bilbo furrowed his brow. “But then why would you say you aren’t Dwalin’s? If you only get one One, shouldn’t it be implied that you’re his One, too?”

“That’s not always the case. Sometimes someone finds their One and they’ve already got theirs, or they don’t return the feelings. Dwalin was married, a long time ago. I think she was his One.” Ori twitched his fingers again and stared down at the table. “I made the mistake of telling him he was my One while we were journeying here.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“We were in Lake-town, at King Bard’s house. Dwalin went looking for a stone to sharpen his axes with, and I followed him, and… well, I told him.”

“What did he say?”

Ori looked positively sullen now. “He said no. He said he couldn’t.”

Bilbo sat up and leaned across the table. “Well, which one?” he insisted. “They could mean two different things. Maybe his brother or someone else is forbidding him, but you’re still his One.”

Ori shook his head. “He told me I wasn’t. He mentioned his wife, from before, and I realized…” He trailed off and shrugged. “But it’s alright. I probably wasn’t meant to find my One, anyways. I'm just a scribe, after all.”

“You sound almost as ridiculous as Thorin,” Bilbo muttered. “You’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, no matter what. And everyone deserves someone like that, don’t ever think otherwise.”

Ori smiled and moved to fill Frodo's cup when he banged it on the table insistently. “Could we talk about someone else?” he asked quietly. “I can tell you more about some other dwarrow customs, if you’d like.”

Bilbo could tell Ori was done talking about his lost love, so he leaned back with a sigh. “Alright, could you tell me if anyone else from the Company has a One?” he asked.

Ori’s smile brightened and he leaned forward. “Fíli tells me that Tauriel is Kíli’s One,” he whispered conspiratorially. “He even said that Kíli’s considered running off with her to some far-off place in Middle Earth, but Tauriel wouldn’t go and he knew Thorin would go after him, anyhow.”

“How scandalous.” Bilbo grinned and leaned forward to meet Ori halfway across the table. “Tell me more.”

\--------------------

Bilbo caught up with Balin in the throne room after the midday meal and cornered him before he had a chance to leave for his next meeting. “Who is Dwalin’s One?” he demanded

Balin blinked at him in shock. “Who… you aren’t supposed to know about that,” he said quietly. “Who told you about Ones?”

“I… read it in a book. Now you have to tell me who Dwalin’s One is, because Ori says that Dwalin is his One and it seems to me that a connection that deep should run both ways so it’s silly if Dwalin—”

“Master Baggins, please slow down.” Bilbo stopped and took a deep breath while Balin composed himself. “Perhaps you should follow me to the library,” Balin suggested.

Bilbo nodded and stepped back to allow Balin to pass. “I know this is some ancient dwarrow custom, but I think it’s silly that you all go to such lengths to hide it,” he said as they walked. Balin glanced back at him and smiled.

“We have always been a secretive people,” he replied vaguely. “Come, follow me.” He ducked through a narrow corridor and waited until Bilbo followed to turn to him fully. “Now, you say that Dwalin is Ori’s One, correct?”

Bilbo nodded and Balin nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, about it going both ways most of the time,” he confessed after a moment. “It is very rare for the bond to be one-sided. Still, it has happened.”

“Dwalin gave Ori his war hammer,” Bilbo said bluntly. “Something tells me he does not hand that out freely for anyone to use.”

Balin grinned at that and shrugged. “That is true. My brother has always been… protective of his weapons.”

“So Ori is Dwalin’s One, then?”

Balin sighed and leaned against the cool stone in the corridor. “It isn’t as simple as that, I’m afraid,” he said. “The emotional bond may be there, yes, but there are certain… obstacles, things that would get in the way of them accepting the bond.”

“You mean politically? Because if you think I’m going to let a few advisors get in the way of Ori being happy—”

“It is far more than just stuffy old dwarves sitting around a table,” Balin interrupted. “My brother and I… well, the Ri brothers are from a different class, let’s say.”

Bilbo stared at the older dwarf. “You mean because they have less money he and Dwalin can’t be together?” he whispered. “That’s the most awful thing I’ve ever heard.”

“That is part of it, but it’s more than that. My father was Fundin, son of Farin, son of Borin, son of Náin II. Náin II was the father of Dáin, who fathered Thrór, who fathered Thráin II, who was Thorin's father.”

Bilbo blinked as he struggled to keep up. “So… your family is related to Thorin's,” he finally figured out.

Balin nodded. “We are descended from Durin, the first Father of Dwarves. Thorin's line is simply more direct than ours.”

“So you and Dwalin are royalty.”

“To an extent, yes.” Balin turned and started down the stone corridor again, and Bilbo hurried to keep up. “Among dwarves, it is very serious to be descended from Durin. It is practically forbidden that anyone from the line of Durin bond with someone outside the line. And since Ori and his brothers are not from Durin’s lineage…”

“He and Dwalin can’t accept the bond.” Bilbo shook his head and paused in the corridor. “That’s absolutely ridiculous, though! Surely you must see that?”

Balin shrugged and pushed open a wooden door that lead them into the library. “It is the way of our people,” he said simply.

“But Ori said that dwarves only love one time! To deny him and Dwalin that just because of a few titles… I mean, you aren’t even direct descendants, right? There’s no chance Dwalin would ever take the throne, so there’s no chance a commoner would rule over Erebor. Why can’t there be an exception to the rule?”

Balin turned and studied Bilbo carefully. Bilbo stared back fiercely, ready to argue his point for as long as it took.

“That is exactly what I tried to tell my brother,” Balin finally said. Bilbo blinked in surprise.

“You tried to convince him?”

Balin looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward. “When Dwalin told me he suspected that Ori was his One, we were at Beorn’s house. I spent the rest of the journey trying to convince him to see if the bond was true. But while we were at Lake-town, Dwalin informed me suddenly that he didn’t want to know and left it at that.”

“Ori said he told Dwalin he was Ori’s One in Lake-town,” Bilbo said quietly.

“Then the bond is true, and Dwalin is simply being stubborn. He is far more concerned with respecting the line of Durin than I am, I’m afraid.”

“So this is Dwalin’s fault,” Bilbo muttered. “Somehow I am not nearly as surprised as I ought to be.”

Balin patted Bilbo's shoulder consolingly. “I know my brother, and that is how I know he will not break tradition. He will fight this bond to the end if he can, Bilbo. You had best give it up now.”

Bilbo grinned wryly and winked at the old dwarf. “When have you ever known me to give up?” he asked.

\--------------------

By the time Bilbo returned to the kitchen, Bombur was stirring something in a pot and Frodo was nowhere to be found. Bilbo sighed and rubbed his forehead. “If he keeps sneaking off like this I am going to die of fright long before I am old and gray,” he muttered to himself.”

“Don’t worry yourself too much,” Bombur assured him. “Thorin came by for midday meal and Frodo attached himself to his boot. Last I saw they were heading for Thorin's study. Frodo mentioned something about a story.”

“You dwarves are going to spoil that child silly.” Still, Bilbo made sure to take a plate of rolls and cheese along with him in case Frodo was hungry before supper. After a moment’s thought, he took a jug of ale for Thorin, as well.

Thorin as resting in a huge, fur-covered armchair when Bilbo arrived. Frodo was crouched on his knees in Thorin's lap, diligently counting out Thorin's braids aloud while Thorin finished signing papers.

“Five, six, six…”

“Seven comes after six, _gimleluh_.”

Frodo frowned and dropped the braid he’d wrongly counted. “Mmkay. Seven, seven…”

“Next is eight.”

“Mmkay. Eight, eight…”

Thorin sighed and put his quill down. “Perhaps I could help you from here?” he suggested. Frodo shook his head.

“I do it,” he replied firmly. Thorin held up his hands in surrender and leaned back in the chair. He nodded when he saw Bilbo at the doorway.

“Where have you been all day?” he asked as Bilbo sat down in a chair beside him. “Frodo said you left after breakfast and haven’t been seen since.”

“I played hide-and-seek wit’ Torin!” Frodo called cheerfully. Thorin frowned up at the boy.

“We weren’t playing hide-and-seek, you just ran off and snuck under a table for two hours.”

Frodo nodded solemnly to Bilbo. “I won, Unca Bilbo.” With that, he turned back to Thorin's braids. “Eight, eight, eight, eight. All done!”

“And how many braids are there?”

“Eight.”

Thorin sighed and rubbed his temple. “That’s very good, _gimleluh_ ,” he said finally. Frodo grinned proudly and dropped off Thorin's lap to sit by his feet with Flower. Bilbo grinned at Thorin and shrugged when the dwarf gave him a look.

“He’s a child, Thorin, what did you expect?”

“Having only eight braids would be a disgrace,” Thorin replied.

“I promise, he’s not intentionally trying to shame you.”

Thorin just grunted and watched Frodo gleefully throw Flower up into the air. “You never answered my question,” he said. “Where were you all day?”

“I didn’t realize I had to inform you of my every moves,” Bilbo replied.

Thorin's gaze darkened and he absently stroked Frodo's hair. “Since Ori was attacked in the library, we have doubled our security around the mountain.” He glanced at Bilbo and his expression softened. “I would like to know where you go from now on. If something were to happen to you or Frodo—”

“I’ll tell you from now on,” Bilbo agreed. “I was only at the library with Balin today, anyways. He told me about some dwarrow customs.”

Thorin frowned. “Our customs are not meant to be heard by outsiders.”

“Well, I didn’t think I was an outsider,” Bilbo huffed. “Besides, it’s not as though he was teaching me Khuzdul or anything. He just told me about your Ones.”

Thorin relaxed slightly. “That is not such a big secret,” he replied. “Some of the Men know of it, as do some of the Elves. Especially since Kíli is foolish enough to believe his One is an Elf.”

“Do you have a One?” Bilbo asked. He decided to ignore Thorin's jab at Kíli for now.

“Not all of us are so lucky,” Thorin replied simply. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask exactly what that meant, but Thorin stood and nudged Frodo gently with his boot. “Come, _gimleluh,_ it is time for your sword-fighting lesson.”

“Sword-fighting?” Bilbo stood and followed the two outside onto Thorin's balcony. “I don’t remember agreeing to him learning how to sword-fight.”

“They are only wooden swords,” Thorin replied. “It is merely an early start to his training. All children go through it before they begin advanced training.”

“Hobbits aren’t meant to sword-fight,” Bilbo protested. “He’d never last if you put him up against other dwarves, even dwarves his own age.”

Thorin smiled at Bilbo and handed Frodo a tiny wooden sword. “I would not put him in harm’s way like that,” he reassured the smaller man. “But you are living with dwarves now. This is one of our customs.”

Bilbo watched as Thorin knelt and picked up a long wooden stick. He held it out horizontally and nodded to Frodo, who gripped his sword and swung it to one side of the stick. It connected with a sharp _crack_ and Thorin nodded his approval. “Now the other side,” he encouraged. Frodo swung the sword the other way and hit the opposite side of the stick. He was clumsy with the sword and swung wildly, but each time he hit the stick Thorin would nod and smile, so Bilbo figured he must be doing something right.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the steady _clack_ of the sword against Thorin's stick. Finally Bilbo spoke up nervously. “If a dwarf from… from a royal descent were to find their One in someone from… _less_ royal descent,” he began nervously. “What would be their punishment for accepting the bond?”

Thorin glanced over and shrugged. “In most cases their families would shun them,” he replied. “Any land or titles they held would be taken, and they would no longer be honored by their relatives.”

“Oh.” That sounded rather serious. “So it doesn’t happen very often?”

“I’ve never heard of a descendant of Durin accepting bonds with someone outside the line.”

“But say someone from our Company did. Would _you_ throw them out of the mountain?”

Thorin turned and glanced at Bilbo. “Is this about Kíli and Tauriel?” he asked.

Bilbo shook his head and sat on the wall on the edge of the balcony. “Never mind,” he reassured the dwarf. “It was just a thought.”

It seemed that if Bilbo wanted something done about this whole mess, he was on his own to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul used:  
> -'gimleluh' means 'my star of stars'
> 
> Wow, that Durin family history thing took forever to figure out. Just to clarify, I know that in the books Ori and his brothers were distantly related to the line of Durin, but I like the headcanon where the Ri brothers were just merchants in the Blue Mountains who followed Thorin to Erebor. More romantic and all that. Like Romeo and Juliet, without all the killing and suicide and whatnot. 
> 
> Also, I have no explanation as to why this took almost a month for me to update. I just got a new job and college is stressful as always, so that might sort of explain it. Still. It's unforgivable and I won't let it happen again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: this whole chapter is from Frodo's point of view so the language is more simplistic and through Frodo's eyes.

Frodo loved all the dwarves in Erebor. They were loud and rowdy and they always gave him nice toys and played fun games with him.

But Frodo _loved_ the Ur family.

Bofur made him little wooden toys of all sorts and sometimes gave him sweets and candy when Unca Bilbo wasn’t looking. Bombur made yummy food, and his belly was so big and round that Frodo could pretend he was a fluffy cloud. Unca Bilbo said the Ur brothers spoiled him the most, but Frodo didn’t mind because he always got food and toys and beard tickles.

But Bifur. Frodo loved Bifur more than anyone else—except maybe Thorin and Fíli and Kíli. And Unca Bilbo. And Flower.

Bifur had the fluffiest beard, and his braids always looked so pretty ‘cause they were black and gray, and he had a _rock_ in his head. Frodo had poked it once, but Bofur had told him that might hurt Bifur, so after that Frodo was very careful.

Bifur talked funny, and Bofur told him it was ‘cause of the rock, and that he was still talking but it was other words that Frodo didn’t know. But Frodo didn’t care, ‘cause Bifur used his hands to talk and Frodo figured out what all his hand-talking meant really fast. Like when Bifur knocked his fists together and raised his hand, he meant ‘mountain’. And when Bifur raised his pointer fingers together he meant ‘listen’. Sometimes it was really easy—usually when Bifur was hungry he would pat his tummy and growl, and when Bifur was tired he’d tap his head and pretend to fall asleep. But Frodo figured out the hard hand-talking, too. Unca Bilbo said Frodo was really smart.

Frodo made extra sure to talk to Bifur as much as he could so Bifur could learn all the words that Frodo knew. Bofur said that Bifur knew what Frodo was saying, but he couldn’t say the words back. So Frodo spoke really loudly and slowly so Bifur could learn to say the words, too.

“Frodo, you really don’t have to talk so slowly,” Misser Balin said once while they were eating dinner. Frodo was sitting on Bifur’s lap, and every time he picked up a new food he would hold it up to Bifur and say its name until Bifur nodded.

“Uh-huh,” Frodo insisted. “Gotta teach Bifur words.” He grabbed an apple slice that Unca Bilbo had cut him and held it up. “Apple,” he said slowly. “Apple.”

Bifur nodded and tapped the slice. _“_ _Tabl,”_ he replied.

Frodo shook his head. “Nu-uh. Apple.”

“ _Tabl_.”

“Apple.”

Misser Dori smiled and nudged Frodo's arm until he ate the apple slice and fed one to Flower. “ _Tabl_ is our word for apple, Frodo,” he said. “It is our language.”

“But Bifur gotta know apple, too,” Frodo replied.

“Bifur does know apple, he just can’t say it like you and I can. He says it in our words, instead.”

Frodo looked up at Bifur, who nodded and grabbed a piece of bread. “ _Hamdel,”_ he said.

“Bread.”

“ _Hamdel_.”

Frodo squinted and looked at the bread really hard. _“Ham…del,_ ” he tried. Bifur nodded and smiled, so Frodo smiled back and took the bread. “ _Hamdel_ ,” he said again. Then he ate it.

Bifur took his fork and poked a sausage. “ _Damâmkarl_ ,” he said. Frodo squinted.

 _“Dam… dama… damakar,_ ” he tried.

“Close,” Misser Dori said. “Try again. _Damâmkarl.”_

 _“Dam… damâmkarl.”_ Then Frodo took the fork from Bifur and ate the sausage, too. Frodo decided he liked learning new words as long as he got to eat them afterwards.

Bifur taught him all sorts of new words. Whenever Bifur took him for a while so Unca Bilbo could garden in the greenhouse—which wasn’t green, it was glass, but Unca Bilbo said that it was just another name for it and Frodo would understand later—Bifur would point to things and say the new word, and Frodo would say it back. Then Frodo would say the word he knew, and Bifur would nod and they’d keep walking. Frodo wanted Bifur to say the word back to him, but Bofur said he couldn’t so Frodo just made sure Bifur knew them really well in case he wanted to try later.

After Ori had fallen asleep with Frodo in the book room and had stayed asleep for a long time, Thorin told Bifur to stay with Frodo wherever he went. Even if he was reading with Ori, or playing with Fíli and Kíli, or using swords with Misser Dwalin, Bifur had to be there. Frodo guessed that Thorin really wanted Frodo to learn his new words, and that was why he made Bifur go with him places all the time. He asked Fíli once and Fíli just nodded and smiled real big and patted Frodo's head, and then gave Frodo his eagle toy so they could keep playing.

Sometimes Bifur had to go in the big caves that Frodo wasn’t allowed to go in ‘cause Thorin said it was scary down there, so instead Misser Glóin or Misser Dwalin or Misser Nori would stay with Frodo. Frodo tried to point to things so they could teach him the words, but they just smiled and nodded and told him that yes Frodo, that was a rock, or yes Frodo, that was a chair, and didn’t teach him the new words. Frodo guessed only Bifur was allowed to teach Frodo, so he stopped asking.

Bifur pointed to Misser Dwalin and Ori once while they were all sitting in the big room at night and whispered, “ _Amrâbu 'ashur nunur.”_

Frodo frowned and looked up from his block-mountain that he and Flower were building to rule together. “Wha's t’at?” he asked.

Bifur pointed one finger up, then the middle finger next to it, then looped them together. “ _Amrâbu 'ashur nunur,”_ he repeated.

“Fingers?” Frodo guessed.

Bifur shook his head and waved Misser Balin over. “ _Amrâbu 'ashur nunur,”_ he whispered when Misser Balin sat by them. He pointed to Misser Dwalin and Ori, then at Frodo.  Misser Balin nodded and leaned down to whisper to Frodo.

“Bifur is saying ‘soul of each other’,” Misser Balin said quietly. “It means Dwalin and Ori are meant to be together. Do you understand?”

Frodo frowned and stared at Misser Dwalin and Ori. “Like berries an’ cream?” he asked. Unca Bilbo said berries and cream should always be together.

Misser Balin smiled and nodded. “Sort of, yes. More like Glóin and his wife, though.”

“Like Mama an’ Papa?” Unca Bilbo said they were together, too, in a faraway place and maybe Frodo could see them someday a really long time from now.

“Yes, that’s very good.” Misser Balin looked sad, so Frodo reached up and tapped Misser Balin’s nose ‘cause that always made the dwarves smile. Misser Balin smiled and patted Frodo's head. “You’re very smart, you know,” Misser Balin told him.

“Unca Bilbo says I is smartest ever,” Frodo told him proudly.

“Your uncle is right.”

Frodo smiled wide, then frowned and tapped Bifur’s arm. “Why do Misser Dwalin an’ Ori not act like Mama an’ Papa?”

“How do you mean?” Misser Balin asked.

“Mama an’ Papa always kissed, like t’is.” Frodo puckered his lips together and made a loud _mwah_ noise. Fíli looked up from the paper in front of him from the other side of the room.

“What are you teaching him over there?” he asked Misser Balin. Frodo giggled and bounced on Bifur’s lap.

“I teach kissin’,” he told Fíli. “Like t’is.” He made the noise again with his lips and blew a kiss to Fíli. Fíli smiled and looked down at his paper again. “How come Misser Dwalin an’ Ori don’ do t’at?” he asked Misser Balin.

Balin shrugged and looked at Misser Dwalin. “My brother is very… stubborn,” he said. “They will kiss eventually. He just needs time.”

 _“Lalkh rakhsûna_ ,” Bifur mumbled. Balin slapped his arm and glared at him, so Frodo guessed Bifur said a bad thing. He giggled anyways.

\--------------------

Frodo was very confused. It had been almost two months since Ori had taken his really long nap, and he and Dwalin _still_ weren’t kissing.

Frodo was allowed to call all the dwarves by their first names, now, after Dwalin said that he was tired of hearing ‘Misser’ all the time. Unca Bilbo hadn’t been happy, and he tried to say something about manners, but Dwalin gave him a mean glare and now Unca Bilbo let him.

Since Frodo could call all the dwarves by their real names, he figured he should do something to make his new best friends happy. And Ori was _not_ happy. He still smiled, and read Frodo stories, and knitted sweaters and blankets and gloves. But Frodo could tell—Ori was sad and it was Dwalin’s fault. At least, that’s what Bifur said.

“How come Ori an’ Dwalin still not kissin’?” Frodo asked Fíli while they were playing on the steps of the throne room. Fíli and Kíli had made a ball that bounced really high, and Frodo wanted to use it in a big room with tall ceilings so they could make it go even higher.

Kíli threw the ball down and watched it bounce. “Why do you think Ori and Dwalin should kiss?” he asked.

“’Cause Balin an’ Bifur say t'ey gotta be kissin’ soon.” Frodo chased after the ball and carried it back to Fíli proudly.

Fíli took the ball and smiled. “Oh yeah? Why do they say that?”

“Balin say t’ey ‘ones’. Like a number.” Frodo sat on the steps and tugged on Fíli’s coat until he sat next to him. “Do I got a number?”

“Maybe. Being Ones with someone means you’re together forever.”

Frodo scrunched up his face. “Is Unca Bilbo my One?” he asked.

Kíli laughed and sat in front of them. “I think your uncle’s already taken, sorry.”

Frodo frowned. “I be your One?” he asked.

“I’ve already got a one. You remember the Elf Tauriel?” Frodo nodded and Kíli smiled really wide. “She’s my One, even though Elves don’t have Ones.”

“You can be my One,” Fíli said. “Does that sound okay?”

Frodo thought for a long while and then nodded. “Mmkay. I be Fíli’s One.”

Kíli smiled big at Fíli, who rolled his eyes. Frodo wasn’t listening, though, because Thorin came into the room and Frodo hadn’t seen Thorin all day. And Thorin was with Dwalin! Maybe Dwalin could tell him why he and Ori weren’t kissing.

“Torin!” Frodo called. Thorin smiled at him and Frodo ran over and wrapped around his boot. Frodo liked his boot. It was big and furry and had beads on it. It sort of reminded Frodo of Thorin.

Thorin leaned down and scooped Frodo up in his big arms. Frodo liked it when Thorin carried him, even though Unca Bilbo said he was getting too big. Thorin walked faster than him and from way up high in Thorin’s arms Frodo could see almost anything.

“What have you been up to today?” Thorin asked. Frodo pointed to Fíli and Kíli and their ball.

“We play ball an’ Bifur teach me new words,” he said. Frodo was very excited about the words Bifur had taught him today.

“Which words did you learn?” Frodo beamed up at him.

“I learn meat is _hasas_ an’ finger is _mad…madkh_ an’ spoon is _lebal_ ,” he recited.

“That’s very good, _akhûnith._ ”

“Wha's t’at?”

“It means ‘young one’.”

“Oh.” Frodo squirmed in Thorin's arms until he was nestled against Thorin’s beard. “Torin?”

“Hmm?” Thorin looked down at him and Frodo played with one of the beads in Thorin's hair. Thorin's beard was too short to put beads in it, but Thorin said it would grow and then Frodo could put a bead in his beard one day.

Frodo glanced at Dwalin, then leaned up and whispered loudly, “How come Dwalin an’ Ori not kissin’?”

Dwalin must have heard him, because he spat out the drink he’d been drinking and made some funny noises. Fíli hit his back and Dwalin leaned over and gasped. Frodo frowned.

“Wha's wrong wit’ Dwalin?” he asked Thorin. Thorin smiled at him and shifted him until Frodo was against his chest.

“Nothing, _akhûnith._ Dwalin was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Frodo waited until Dwalin was better to ask again. “How come he an’ Ori not kissin’?”

“I don’ need’ta be here for this. If ye’ll excuse me,” Dwalin muttered. Thorin reached out and grabbed his coat before Dwalin could leave.

“The lad asked you a question, Dwalin,” Thorin said with a funny-looking smile. Dwalin grumbled but turned around and stared at Frodo.

“Why would ye think Ori an’ I need’ta be… kissin’?” Dwalin asked.

Frodo shrugged and played with one of Thorin's beads. “’Cause Balin an’ Bifur said you an’ Ori are Ones an’ that Ones kiss like Mama an’ Papa used to, ‘cept Fíli say he my One an’ I don’ wanna kiss him like Mama an’ Papa used to.”

Fíli laughed and rubbed Frodo's hair. “We can be platonic Ones. Like Nori and Bombur.”

Frodo nodded and turned back to Thorin. “Me an’ Fíli is ‘tonic Ones now,” he said proudly. Then he frowned. “Torin, who your One?”

Thorin blinked a lot, and then turned to Dwalin. “Let’s focus on one issue at a time. Like why Dwalin and Ori aren’t kissing when they clearly should be.”

“Mmkay.” Frodo turned to Dwalin and waited.

Dwalin looked sick, like Frodo felt when he ate too much fish. He leaned against the wall and sighed a deep breath. “It’s… complicated, lad,” he said.

“Why?” Frodo asked.

“Because… Ori is from a diff’rent family, an’ his family aren’t… well, ye know the advisors Thorin is always yellin’ at?” Frodo nodded and Dwalin continued, “They say tha’ Ori an’ I can’t… kiss, because Ori is from a family with less gold.”

Frodo frowned. “I don’ got gold, an’ Fíli got lots’a gold, an’ we still Ones now.”

“But it’s diff’rent fer Ori an’ me,” Dwalin replied. “Because ye an’ Fíli don’… kiss.”

“Oh.”

Thorin shifted Frodo to his other arm and held him tight. “Have the advisors told you this, then?” he asked Dwalin. Frodo looked up and tapped on Thorin's nose, because Thorin sounded angry and when Thorin got angry he got really loud, and Frodo didn’t like when Thorin was really loud unless he was laughing.

“No’ in as many words, bu’ the meanin’ was clear,” Dwalin said. “Besides, I knew from the start o’ the journey tha’ Ori an’ me… tha’ it couldn’t happen. The laws don’ allow it.”

Thorin huffed and looked really angry. Frodo tugged on Thorin's braid until he leaned his head down.

“You a king,” Frodo said when Thorin was at his level. “Unca Bilbo say you make lots’a rules. You make one so Ori an’ Dwalin can kiss.”

“You could do it, Uncle,” Kíli spoke up. “It would take a little bit, but you could just threaten the advisors until they agreed to you. You already do that for all the other laws.”

“These are sacred laws,” Dwalin replied. “Ye can’t jus’ change those.”

Thorin was looking at Frodo, who kept playing with his beads. Frodo really liked Thorin's beads. They were metal and glittery and clinked together when Thorin moved his head. “Why do you want Ori and Dwalin to kiss so much, _akhûnith?”_ Thorin asked quietly.

Frodo shrugged. “’Cause Ori is sad an’ Balin say Dwalin is sad an’ Mama an’ Papa was not sad when t’ey was kissin’.”

Thorin made a ‘hmm’ noise and looked over at Dwalin, who was arguing loudly with Kíli and Fíli. “You think them kissing will make them happy?” he asked. Frodo nodded and patted Thorin's coat.

“I kiss Unca Bilbo when he sad an’ he say I make him all better,” Frodo said. “An’ I try to kiss Ori but he still sad. So Dwalin gotta kiss him.”

Thorin nodded and walked over to his desk quietly. “Alright, let’s see what we can do to get Dwalin to kiss Ori,” he whispered. Frodo giggled and leaned over to watch Thorin write.

\--------------------

“Mama.”

_“Amad.”_

“Papa.”

_“Adad.”_

“Brother?”

“ _Nadad.”_

“Unca?”

 _“Idad._ ” Bifur leaned back and tapped Frodo's chest.

“Me try?” Frodo asked. Bifur nodded and Frodo scrunched up his mouth while he thought. “Mama, _amad,_ Papa, _adad,_ brother, _nadad_ , unca, _idid.”_

 _“Idad_ ,” Bifur said. Frodo nodded.

“Uh-huh. _Idad._ ”

Bifur nodded again and gave Frodo a piece of cheese as a reward. Frodo munched on it happily and held up his arms when Thorin came into the kitchen. “Up,” he demanded. Thorin picked him up and broke a piece of cheese off for himself.

“What are you learning now?” Thorin asked.

“Names,” Frodo said. “Bifur teach me family names.”

“Oh? Do you remember what they are?”

Frodo nodded and finished his cheese so he could think really hard and remember. “Mama, _amad,_ Papa, _adad,_ brother, _nadad_ , unca, _idad._ ” He looked at Bifur and smiled when the dwarf made the sign that meant ‘good job’.

“That was very good,” Thorin praised. Frodo smiled even wider and leaned his head on Thorin's shoulder.

“Is Ori an’ Dwalin kissin’ yet?” he asked. Thorin chuckled and sat at the table with Frodo in his lap.

“Not yet. The advisors are still fighting me,” he said. “But it won’t be long before they give in.”

“Mmkay.” Frodo was tired now that he’d eaten, so he tugged on Thorin's beard and yawned. “Nap,” he said. Thorin stood again and shifted Frodo so he could rest on Thorin's chest while they walked.

Thorin had a loud heart. It banged against Frodo's ears while they walked, but Frodo liked it because Unca Bilbo said that it meant Thorin was still alive and Frodo wanted Thorin to stay alive forever.

“Torin?” Frodo asked sleepily. Thorin looked down at him and smiled.

“Yes?”

Frodo yawned again and closed his eyes. “You gotta stay forever an’ ever,” he mumbled.

“I will, _gimlìth_.” Thorin opened the door to Frodo and Unca Bilbo's room, and Frodo squirmed in Thorin's arms until Thorin picked Flower up from the chair he was resting in and handed him to Frodo. Frodo didn't like sleeping without Flower—Flower kept all the bad things away.

“Mmkay.” Then Frodo had a wonderful thought—if Thorin called him all sorts of names in the new words, maybe Frodo could call Thorin by one of the words he knew! Frodo didn’t know many words, but he wanted to show Thorin how well he was learning his new words. Thorin would be so proud!

Thorin tucked him into bed, and made sure the covers were tight around Frodo and Flower. Before he could leave, Frodo leaned up and wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck. “Night night, _adad_ ,” he mumbled. And Thorin must have been very proud, because he smiled and his eyes got all wet. But Frodo fell asleep before he could say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul used:  
> -all the Khuzdul already translated by the dwarves in the chapter  
> -'Amrâbu 'ashur nunur' translates to 'soul of each other'. I couldn't find a word I liked for Ones so I used a phrase I pieced together from the Neo-Khuzdul dictionary  
> -'Lalkh rakhsûna' basically means 'witless orc-lady' and it's an insult Bifur uses on Dwalin
> 
> It's two chapters in two weeks! How, you ask? Well, it's end of midterms, so I wanted to write ultra fluff, and it's now officially my spring break and I have nothing better to do for the next week. So expect chapter updates for all my fics and maybe even some one-shots!
> 
> But Bifur!! And Frodo called Thorin 'adad'! And Ori and Dwalin are almost a thing! And Fíli agreeing to be Frodo's platonic One! And Frodo's getting suspicious about who Thorin should be kissing and that's never a good sign. I promise, next chapter we'll be back to Bilbo and his meddling, I just gave him a break for this chapter because I love writing Frodo interacting with the dwarves, especially the more 'minor' ones like Bifur. (Also, in case it wasn't clear enough, Dwalin is a stubborn whiny baby who doesn't break the ancient laws, and the ancient laws state that a member of the line of Durin must marry another from Durin. That's why he and Ori aren't together yet. Because we all know Ori would be totally fine with saying 'fuck it' to the ancient laws).


	7. Chapter 7

Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain of Erebor, was not panicking.

At least, that was what he told himself as he paced the golden floors of the main entrance to Erebor’s palace. He was a king. He was noble in all aspects of life, defined by his dignity. He did not _blush_ like a maiden when faced with a young child calling him “father” in his native tongue. And he _certainly_ did not cry.

“Wha’s got ye all panicked?” Dwalin asked from the entryway. Thorin turned and glared at him.

“I am _not_ panicking,” he grumbled. Dwalin rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the pillars.

“What did the lad call you this time? It wasn’t ‘granddad’, was it?”

“He called me _adad_.”

Dwalin whistled lowly. “Well, if tha’ don’t beat all.”

“It does not change anything,” Thorin insisted. “He and Bilbo are guests in our mountain, nothing more.”

“Clearly Frodo doesn’ think tha’ way.”

“I will just have to tell Bilbo that Frodo is… confused. It is understandable, considering the trauma he experienced.”

“Or maybe he jus’ sees ye as a father figure.”

Thorin glared at Dwalin, who stared back unwaveringly. “Don’t you have a scribe to pine after?” Thorin finally growled.

Dwalin gave him a rude gesture and walked forward until he was toe-to-toe with Thorin. “Ye need ta start focusin’ on yer own issues,” he growled back. “Like how ye’ve got one Hobbit tha’ sees ye as a father an’ another one tha’ could very well be yer One.”

“Bilbo is a Hobbit. Hobbits don’t have Ones.”

“Frodo has a One,” Dwalin pointed out.

“Frodo doesn’t even know what Ones are. He just didn’t want to be left out, so Fíli offered to pretend.”

“Kíli’s One is tha’ Elf lass wi’ the red hair.”

“Do not speak to me of the Elves,” Thorin snarled. “Kíli is confused. He will learn. Besides, the ancient laws forbid—”

“Mahal’s beard, Thorin!” Dwalin exploded. “Ye’ve got a Hobbit fer a One, Kíli’s got an Elf. Ye need ta accept tha’. I’ve got a scribe tha’ I can’t even accept as mine, all because of those stupid laws of ours! Act like a King fer once an’ get rid of them, before we all suffer.”

Thorin blinked at Dwalin in surprise. “You… want me to get rid of the laws?” he asked slowly. “You are the one that has always upheld those laws. I would have thought you would be more against it.”

Dwalin growled a curse in Khuzdul and punched Thorin on the shoulder. “Yer an imbecile,” he said. “Ori is my _One_. The only soul I’ll ever love on this earth. I did my best ta deny it the whole journey here, but there’s no denyin’ tha’ I love him. No’ even the ancient laws can stop tha’.”

“The ancient laws are part of our culture. They are engrained in our bloodlines, forged by our ancestors—”

“An’ maybe now it’s time ta change them,” Dwalin interrupted. “They worked fer our ancestors, bu’ this is a new age, Thorin. An’ tha’ means new laws.”

“If you no longer care for the ancient laws, why haven’t you denied them and accepted Ori anyways? He has already accepted you, despite the fact that you have refused him several times.”

Dwalin sighed. “I’m the royal guard,” he said slowly, as though he were talking to a child. “Tha’ means I have ta uphold the ancient laws. If I don’t, they cut off my fuckin’ _head_.”

“Ah. Right.” Thorin rubbed his jaw and glanced towards the door. “I was planning to meet with the advisors and force them to agree to the new laws that stated bloodlines no longer mattered.”

“It wouldn’ be too hard ta add somethin’ in suggestin’ tha’ dwarves could accept other species as their Ones,” Dwalin suggested.

“I suppose not. I should still tell Bilbo that his nephew has somehow… mistaken me for his father.”

“Yer an idiot.” Dwalin turned and walked towards the doorway again. “The lad doesn’ think yer his actual father. He jus’ knows tha’ ye feed him an’ care fer him like a father should. He sees ye as his second father. An’ if ye deny him yer gonna lose the best thing ye’ve got right now.” With that, Dwalin stomped out and Thorin was left alone to his thoughts again.

\--------------------

Frodo was just waking up from his nap when Bilbo stepped out of the bath. After Bombur had finally gotten sick of Bilbo pestering him for something to do all the time, he finally showed Bilbo the greenhouse and left him to his own devices. Bilbo had been horrified at the state of the little hut on the side of the mountain. The glass was filthy and smudged; there were weeds everywhere, and half the plants had clearly been left to die. But Bilbo had never been one to leave something filthy, so he’d rolled up his sleeves and gotten to work, and within a week the greenhouse had looked good as new. Now he spent nearly every day caring for the plants. Frodo usually joined him, but today he had insisted that he wanted to spend time with Bifur and Thorin, so Bilbo hadn’t seen him since breakfast.

“Unca Bilbo,” Frodo yawned as he sat up. He held out his arms and Bilbo sighed as he picked the boy up. “Guess what?”

“What is it, darling?”

Frodo giggled behind his hands and played with the collar of Bilbo's shirt. “I call Torin a word,” he said.

“Oh?” Bilbo arched an eyebrow and tried not to panic at the thought of all the things Frodo could have called Thorin. “And what was it?”

“I call him… I call him _adad_.” Frodo giggled again and kicked his legs. “Torin my _adad_ now.”

Bilbo smiled in relief and sat on the bed. “Well, that’s very nice,” he told the boy.

Bilbo had no idea what _adad_ meant, but he had heard that Frodo believed Fíli was his ‘platonic One’, so he figured it must have something to do with that. Maybe it was something about Thorin being Fíli’s uncle or some such thing—Bilbo could never keep track of all the titles dwarves gave each other.

“Uh-huh. Torin’s my _adad_ forever an’ ever.” Frodo bounced and squirmed down from Bilbo's arms. “I hungry,” he announced. Bilbo smiled and followed him out to the kitchen.

“You know, a proper Hobbit would ask for food rather than just demanding it,” he commented as they walked. Frodo just hummed and skipped down the hall. “These dwarves really have spoiled you rotten, haven’t they?”

“Nu-uh.” Frodo pushed the heavy wooden door open to the kitchen and hopped on a stool next to Bombur. “Food,” he said plainly. Bombur smiled down at him and passed a plate filled with meats and cheeses to Bilbo.

“Did ye have a good nap, then?” Bofur called from the table. He was busy carving a wooden figure that appeared to be a reproduction of Dwalin. Bilbo guessed it was for Frodo and his ever-expanding collection of wooden figurines. Frodo nodded and climbed up on the stool with some difficulty. Bilbo put the plate on the table in front of him and smiled when the fauntling dug in immediately.

Bifur and Glóin trudged in a while later, covered in dust from the mine and chatting in Khuzdul. Frodo paused long enough to allow Bifur to properly pat his head before going back to his food again.

“Have you seen Thorin?” Bilbo asked as the two sat down at the table. “I wanted to ask him how the new laws were going.”

Glóin frowned and tore a roll in half. “What new laws?” he asked. “I hadn’t heard anythin’.”

“Thorin was going to try and convince the advisors that the ancient laws about marrying out of your social circle ere outdated,” Bilbo explained. “He mentioned it to me earlier today, though I didn’t get much out of him before he was off to find Frodo again.”

Bifur mumbled something in Khuzdul and nodded towards the empty seat where Ori usually knitted after dinner. He grinned and winked at Frodo, who giggled and handed him a hunk of cheese.

“Bifur says Thorin's doing it for Ori and Dwalin?” Glóin asked. “I wasn’t aware they were together.”

“They’re each other’s Ones,” Bombur replied. “I heard from Nori the other day tha’ he an’ Dori were about ready ta kill Dwalin for causing Ori pain.”

“Well, Thorin is the king,” Glóin said with a shrug. “If anyone could change the laws, it would be him.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but Frodo cut him off with a loud squeal.

“ _Adad_!”

Thorin froze in the doorway and blinked several times before he finally moved. Bilbo saw Bombur, Bifur, and Glóin grin wickedly and ignored them. Really, what was wrong with Frodo giving Thorin a special name?

“Hello, _gimleluh_.” Thorin leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Frodo's head. “Did you nap well?”

Frodo nodded and handed him a slice of ham with an air of seriousness. “Food,” he affirmed. Thorin nodded and sat down next to the boy before eating the proffered meat. Frodo hummed in satisfaction and resumed his meal.

“So…” Bofur said after a moment of awkward silence. Thorin shot him a glare and he clamped up quickly, though Bifur muttered something to him under his breath. Bilbo frowned, but before he could ask anything Bombur set a plate in front of him and he was distracted.

“Unca Bilbo, wanna stay wit’ _adad_ today,” Frodo said at one point. Bifur snickered and Bofur kicked him under the table to quiet him.

Bilbo nodded and wiped a smudge off Frodo's face. “I don’t see why not, if you ask him nicely.” He glanced up at Thorin, who was staring at him with a mixture of awe and terror. “Thorin? Can Frodo spend some time with you today?”

Thorin swallowed and glanced down at the fauntling. “I… of course he can. I mean, you both may, if you wish. If you aren’t busy, that is. Not that you would be busy, of course, since you are guests. What I mean is, if you are free.”

Óin and Glóin had joined in the laughter by now, and Bombur was physically holding his sides to keep from bursting out in snorts. Bilbo frowned at them all and nodded at Thorin. “Yes, that would be fine. As long as you don’t have any more meetings, of course. Kíli said you have been very busy with the advisors recently.”

“Yes.” Thorin shook himself out of whatever stupor he was in and nodded almost frantically. “I mean, I have been busy with them, but you are still welcome. The advisors can be very dry, and Frodo is usually good company at these meetings.”

“I help _adad_ ,” Frodo said proudly. Bofur snorted and banged on the table, and Bilbo turned and shot him a glare. Frodo climbed into Thorin's lap and curled against his beard with a content sigh.

“I help _adad_ ,” he reaffirmed. Thorin just patted his back and smiled.

\--------------------

“Bilbo, I swear I didn’t teach him the word, I don’t know how he learned it—”

Bilbo cut off Kíli’s rambling with a quick wave of his hand. “Taught who what word?” he asked.

Kíli shuffled his feet and glanced at Thorin and Frodo, who were standing a few feet away with their heads bent together. Thorin appeared to be murmuring something, and Frodo was nodding happily as he listened. “The… the word,” Kíli mumbled. “The word he’s calling Thorin? How have you not noticed?”

“What? Did someone teach my nephew a bad word? I swear to Yavanna, if one of you dwarves taught Frodo a rude word—”

“No, no, I mean _adad_ ,” Kíli rushed. “He keeps calling Thorin _adad_ , and it’s not my fault, I swear.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Bilbo hissed. “You dwarves are so secretive, no one’s told me what any of these words mean. For all I know _every_ word you’ve taught Frodo is a rude one.”

Kíli sighed and pulled Bilbo gently behind a pillar away from Thorin's ears. “ _Adad_ isn’t a rude word,” he said. “It’s… it’s Khuzdul, it’s a familial term. It means ‘father’.”

Bilbo blinked. And blinked again. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then glanced from behind the pillar at Thorin and back at Kíli. “Father?” he managed.

Kíli nodded sheepishly. “I think Bifur’s been teaching him all the family words, so that he could learn _idad_ for you—that means ‘uncle’, by the way—and I guess Frodo must have heard _adad_ and thought of Thorin or something. I swear, I don’t know why, he’s never called Thorin ‘father’ before, at least not around me.”

“He… thinks of Thorin as a father.” Bilbo blinked again, furrowed his brow for a moment, and then nodded to himself. “Right. Okay. As long as he isn’t under the impression that Thorin and I are brothers.” For some reason that thought was vaguely troubling to Bilbo.

“So… you aren’t angry?” Kíli asked cautiously.

Bilbo shrugged and walked out from behind the pillar. Kíli trailed behind him nervously, glancing at Thorin and Frodo as he did. “Of course I'm not angry. He’s a child, Kíli. Granted, I was expecting him to call Bifur his father on accident, but this isn’t entirely unexpected. After all, they spend so much time together.”

Kíli opened his mouth to reply, but the great wooden doors of the room slammed open and the advisors shuffled in, so he kept silent. Bilbo sat at one of the smaller tables in a corner where he would be out of the way and watched while Thorin took his seat at the head of the long table, Frodo nestled firmly in his lap. He smiled at the sight. Frodo had been too young to really remember Drogo, and Bilbo had been worried that growing up with only an uncle for family would be damaging for the boy. It was nice knowing that Frodo cared enough for the dwarves that he considered them his family, as well.

Balin took his seat at Thorin's left, and Fíli entered a moment later and sat at Thorin's immediate right. He snuck a piece of soft candy to Frodo under the table and smiled when the babe let out a quiet squeal of delight.

“Well, then,” Thorin said with a low rumble. “Shall we get started?”

\--------------------

Four hours later, Thorin was ready to throw himself off the top of the mountain. The advisors had done nothing but argue with him, insisting that the laws be kept exactly as they had been for thousands of years. Every time he tried to argue, another wizened old dwarf would speak his mind, and the conversation would start all over again. It was exhausting and entirely unproductive.

Frodo had fallen asleep for about an hour, and now he was cheerfully playing with Flower and his wooden bear toy in Fíli’s lap. Thorin glanced over at Bilbo and saw he was still deeply immersed in the book he’d picked up an hour into the debate. _At least the Hobbits appear to be enjoying themselves_ , he thought wryly.

“The idea that we should change our sacred laws for the sake of one dwarf is entirely reprehensible,” an especially old dwarf called out. “Your Majesty, you cannot expect that our society will change—”

“Why should I not?” Thorin spat back. “If our society is wrong, we must change to become better, should we not?”

“These laws have worked for hundreds of centuries! No one has dared question them until now.”

“Somehow I do not believe that. Just because it was not recorded in our precious books and scrolls does not mean that no one else has found these laws unfair. Our Ones are as sacred to us as these laws—”

“But the laws are in our blood! They are what make us dwarves. Having a One does not excuse the fact that these laws are precious to us and must be upheld.”

“Having a One is as precious as these laws!” Fíli shouted. Frodo glanced up curiously at the noise, but focused on his toys a moment later. “They are the only being on this earth we love for our entire lives! Should we not hold that more sacred than a few rules written on a dusty old scroll?”

“Prince Fíli, I suggest you start showing more respect for our ancient laws,” Gorín spoke up. Thorin shot him a hard glare and he shifted in his seat and glanced away uncomfortably. “Something like this is entirely unexpected, Your Majesty. You realize it leaves us wondering about _why_ exactly you wish to change these new laws.”

“Because they are outdated,” Thorin replied. “My most loyal guard, who stood by me on my quest when the rest of you would not—” Several dwarves flinched at that and Thorin found himself smirking gleefully, “—cannot accept his One because of these rules. He has been nothing by faithful and now he must deny his love because we have not changed our laws yet.”

“Still, the idea that you wish to change them so suddenly is… concerning,” Gorín said. “Are you certain there are no ulterior motives?” Thorin saw Gorín glance in Bilbo's direction quickly before returning his gaze to the table. Thorin saw red, and he banged his fists on the wood and stood up with a loud _creak_.

“ _Are you questioning my loyalty_?” he demanded in Khuzdul. “ _Do you think I do not understand my responsibilities as king? I know royalty is as of yet forbidden to marry outside our race, I understand that these rules cannot be changed so easily. But allowing a law that prohibits one of my most loyal guards and closest friend to accept his love all because he is from a distant line of Durin is unacceptable. I will not stand for it any longer! You will change these laws!”_

The entire room fell eerily silent. Even Frodo paused in his play to stare up at Thorin with wide, adoring eyes. Fíli gently set the boy on the ground and whispered something in his ear, and Frodo sent Thorin one last look before running off to join a stunned Bilbo at the corner table.

Balin cleared his throat loudly and glanced at each advisor individually before standing. “I believe now would be a good time for a break,” he said. The advisors nodded, still silent, and trudged away from the table and out the door.

Fíli leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. “Well, it could have gone better,” he said cheerfully. “Then again, could’ve gone worse, too.”

“What did you say to them?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin sat down with a sigh and waved Bilbo over to the long table. “Nothing of import,” he replied. “Only that they were being foolish, and if any of them knew what was good for them they would agree to change the law.”

“So you threatened them.” Bilbo was smiling now, at least, so Thorin took that as a positive sign. “You just threatened an entire table of some of the most powerful dwarves outside of the Durin line. If you weren’t the king they’d probably have taken your head off.”

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I am the king,” Thorin said simply. He held out an arm and Frodo leapt from Bilbo's grasp to Thorin's. He had dropped his bear toy on the table earlier, and Thorin picked it up now and handed it to Frodo. “You and the lad should not be here for this next part,” he told Bilbo quietly. “Take him to your garden. I will join you when the meeting is finished.”

“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked. “Seemed like Frodo was the only thing keeping you from ripping off beards at the table.”

Thorin grinned wickedly and tapped the hilt of his sword. “Exactly,” he growled.

“Make sure you get that orc-lover Gorín’s,” Fíli said. “That one always wants to stir up trouble and he’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“Gorín is a fair advisor, and he’s far older than the two of you combined,” Balin told them. “He has seen more and done more than any other dwarf at this table. It would not be wise to anger him.”

“He is not the king,” Thorin insisted. “He can have all the power and influence he wants at this table, but Iam still the king and I intend to stay as such for a long time.”

“Besides, he’s the one that called Frodo all those terrible names,” Fíli spoke up. “Can you imagine? Calling _our_ Frodo ‘beardless’ to Uncle’s face.”

Bilbo frowned in confusion. “Frodo _is_ beardless,” he pointed out. “Hobbits don’t grow facial hair.”

“That’s not the point. It’s the principle of the matter, and that insult is a grave, nasty thing to call anyone within this mountain.” Fíli pet Frodo's curls while the little boy hummed and danced his stuffed rabbit across the table.

The door creaked open and several advisors shuffled back in nervously. Thorin wrapped Frodo up in a quick hug and whispered something in his ear before setting him on the ground by Bilbo. “I will see you when this is done,” he promised. “I will tell you what has happened. For now, take Frodo and go.” Bilbo nodded and scooped the boy up. He hurried out before Gorín could arrive, but not before he gave Thorin one last look as the doors closed behind him. Thorin sighed and stood when the advisors were seated once again and staring at him expectantly.

“Well then, shall we continue?” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many chapters for this!! Like I said, it's my spring break so I've had a ton of free time to write. Don't expect this to be a regular thing, I go back to school and work on Monday so it'll be back to every couple of weeks. I will try and make it so you don't have to wait a month, though.
> 
> So, just to clarify: the ancient laws are more important because they are rooted in the dwarven bloodlines and dwarves consider tradition to be incredibly important. A dwarf's One is just the dwarf/creature they will love for their lifetime, but it is not their soulmate or anything like that like it is in some other fics. And Dwalin still loves Ori, but being a royal guard and following the ancient laws is rooted in his blood (plus, the whole 'cutting-off-his-head' thing).


	8. Chapter 8

“Where _adad_?”

Bilbo glanced over to Frodo, who was elbow-deep in the thick dirt around them. Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure what the boy was doing, but it was keeping him occupied so he let him be.

“Thorin is very busy at the moment, but I'm sure he’ll join us soon,” Bilbo replied. He pulled another carrot out of the ground and placed it in his basket. “Are you wearing your gloves?”

“Yes.” Frodo held up his filthy hands, which were covered by his equally filthy gloves. “I make flower crowns?”

“Alright, as long as you don’t take too many flowers. Remember we need to keep some in the ground so more will grow later.” Frodo nodded and toddled over to the flowerbeds. He bent over and plucked several yellow daisies from the bed.

“Bifur, come help!” he called. Bilbo looked around and frowned when he saw the dwarf standing in the shadow of the doorway.

“How long have you been standing there watching us?” he asked. Bifur just shrugged and walked over to Frodo. Frodo handed him a clump of flowers and he held them obligingly while the boy searched for more.

Bilbo sighed and turned back to the plot of vegetables. The dwarves as a rule refused to eat anything green, so Bilbo had been trying to find vegetables of different colors that he could sneak into their food in an attempt to feed them something other than meat. It wasn’t an easy task by any means.

Bifur glared at the leafy green tops of the carrots and muttered something under his breath. Frodo smacked the dwarf’s leg and glared up at him. “S’not nice,” he scolded when Bifur looked down at him questioningly. Bilbo stifled a laugh.

“Now, Frodo, you know we don’t hit,” he said. Frodo blinked at him a moment, then turned and hugged Bifur’s leg in apology.

“I sorry,” he mumbled. Bifur patted his head and sat in the ground next to him to aid in collecting flowers.

“What in Mahal’s name is Bifur doin’ in the dirt?” a voice spoke up from the entrance to the greenhouse. Bilbo glanced up and smiled at Bofur’s confused expression.

“Frodo is making flower crowns,” he explained, “and I imagine that Bifur is acting as his basket.” Bifur glanced at his cousin, nodded solemnly, and returned to his task when Frodo toddled over to him triumphantly with more flowers.

“Oh, well in that case.” Bofur sat beside his cousin and stole a flower from the pile that was collecting in his lap. “Who are you makin’ crowns for, Frodo?”

“All t’e dwarves,” Frodo replied. “An’ _adad_.”

Bofur grinned and elbowed Bifur when the older dwarf snorted. Bilbo glared at them and put his hands on his hips.

“I’d like to know just what all you dwarves find funny about Frodo calling Thorin his father,” he demanded. “It’s very common for hobbits to call non-family members by familial names, you know.”

“But not for dwarves,” Bofur said. “When we use words like _adad_ and _amad,_ it’s ‘cause we truly mean it. Frodo callin’ Thorin his father means that, in dwarvish customs, Thorin _is_ Frodo's father. Forever.”

“Oh.”

Bilbo had not been expecting that. In the Shire, it was perfectly normal to hear a child call an older hobbit ‘aunt’ or ‘uncle’ or ‘granny’. Bilbo had just assumed that the dwarves were the same way. After all, Thorin had never corrected Frodo. None of the dwarves had.

“Wait, did… did Thorin _adopt_ Frodo?” Bilbo demanded. Bofur shifted uncomfortably.

“Well… it’s no’ usually as easy as tha’. But for simplicity’s sake—yes. Thorin adopted Frodo.”

“Oh that… pig-headed… utterly _daft_ … of all the things!” Bilbo stood, dusted off his knees, and stormed towards the door. “Frodo! Come along, dear, we’re going to find that fool this mountain calls king!”

“ _Adad_!” Frodo leapt off Bifur’s lap and clambered over to grab Bilbo hand. He kept his flower crowns clutched firmly in his fist as they walked, though he did pause and sling one onto Bofur’s bent head as they walked. Bifur already had several daisies braided into his hair and beard, and Bilbo heard Bofur snort in laughter behind them as they walked down the halls.

Thorin was still deep in conversation with the damned advisors, so Bilbo waited impatiently in the shadows while they finished yelling at each other. Frodo hopped around for a bit until he got bored, so Bilbo let him sneak over and plop on Thorin's boot under the table. Fíli glanced down and grinned at the boy when he passed.

Finally, Thorin ended the meeting and the advisors angrily shuffled out. Frodo climbed up Thorin's leg and onto his lap, where he sat on his knees and leaned up to drape a golden crown of daisies and tulips onto Thorin's head. Thorin reached up and felt the petals curiously.

“And what exactly have you put on my head?” he asked Frodo. The fauntling giggled and patted Thorin's head happily.

“A big king crown,” he explained. “I make it in t’e garden.”

“Ah. In that case, thank you.”

Bilbo rushed forward and sat in a seat next to Fíli. “Never mind that,” he interrupted. “Bofur told me something very _interesting_ in the greenhouse, and I believe you owe me an explanation.”

Fíli and Kíli glanced at each other nervously before Kíli scooped Frodo up off Thorin's lap and they hurried out of the room. Thorin arched an eyebrow and looked at Bilbo as regally as one could look while wearing a lopsided crown of flowers on his head.

“What exactly did you want to talk about?” he asked.

Bilbo huffed and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know, how about the fact that you’ve apparently _adopted_ Frodo without telling me?”

To an outsider, it would have appeared as though Thorin were unaffected by the news. Bilbo, however, was no outsider. Thorin's eyes grew slightly wider and his breathing increased just enough to be heard from where Bilbo sat, and he knew the dwarf was close to panicked. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thorin finally managed.

Bilbo sighed in frustration and leaned forward. “Bofur told me that in dwarvish customs, a child only calls an elder by a familial name if they are actually related to that elder. So Frodo calling you _adad_ means that you have adopted him as your son, correct?”

“It isn’t really as simple as that—” Thorin tried.

“ _And_ , since I have never heard anything about this until now, it means you have adopted Frodo without telling me, correct?” Bilbo interrupted.

“I was actually going to mention it to you today—”

“Well then, by all means, please mention it,” Bilbo huffed.

Thorin swallowed and leaned forward a bit in his chair. “I am not certain why the boy has decided to call me… to call me _that_ name,” he said uncomfortably. “I understand that it may be… upsetting to you, since you are his caretaker. I believe it would be best if you spoke to the boy and told him to call me Thorin again—”

“Why would I do that?” Bilbo interrupted. Thorin furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Obviously I would never permit anything that made you upset,” he said. “And Frodo calling me his father… well, I understand how difficult that must be to hear.”

“Thorin, it’s really alright.” Bilbo leaned back and rubbed the corner of one of the parchments on the table between his fingers. “Of course I'm upset that you neglected to mention that you were ‘adopting’ him, but I still think it would be good for Frodo to have more family to call his own. He already cares for you and Fíli and Kíli very much.”

“Yes, but—”

“And besides, Frodo knows I’m his uncle,” Bilbo finished. “I wouldn’t want him to call me anything else. But if he sees you as his father, I see nothing wrong with letting him continue to call you that. Though perhaps you ought to hold off on the adoption bit for a while, just to make sure he really understands what he’s saying and all that.”

Thorin huffed and rubbed his temples. “Bilbo, I really think you ought to speak to him about his calling me _adad_ ,” he sighed.

“Why?”

“The advisors—”

Bilbo groaned. “Of course it’s about the advisors,” he muttered. “Thorin, do you not want to be Frodo's _adad_?”

Thorin looked horrified. “I never said that,” he protested. “I only meant to say that—”

“No more excuses,” Bilbo interrupted. “If you wish to remain Frodo's _adad_ , then you can do so with my blessing now, even if I am incredibly upset with every one of you dwarves for not telling me about this sooner. But if you don’t want him to call you _adad_ you need to tell him now before he gets hurt.”

\--------------------

Frodo was nestled under his new red blanket from Ori in the common room with Bifur when Thorin found him. Bilbo had stayed in the kitchen to help Bombur with supper and to give Thorin some time alone to think about what he wanted, and Thorin had been wandering the empty halls of the palace for hours.

“ _Adad_!” Frodo hopped up, still wrapped in his blanket, and bounced on the couch until Thorin picked him up. Bifur took one look at the king and made himself scarce quickly. “Lookit, Ori give me a b’anket," Frodo continued. "It soft an' warm an' all for me."

“It’s very nice,” Thorin replied. “I hope you thanked him.”

“Uh-huh. Story.” The boy pointed to a large, leather-bound book lying on a chair by the fireplace and stared at Thorin expectantly.

“What do we say when we want something?” Thorin reminded him. Frodo scrunched his nose up.

“ _Please_ ,” he finally sighed. Thorin smiled and sat in the chair with the babe in his lap. He opened the book to a marked page and quickly skimmed through the story to make sure Frodo hadn’t accidentally found a book on Smaug or the fall of Erebor.

Before Thorin had the chance to begin reading, Frodo shifted in his lap and leaned up until his cheek was pressed against Thorin's. “Wanna stay wit’ you an’ Unca Bilbo forever, _adad_ ,” he whispered.

Whatever Thorin was going to say to Frodo disappeared immediately. He wrapped a firm arm around the boy’s waist and pulled him closer against his chest, pressing a kiss to the curls on his head as he did. “Of course, _dashat_ ,” he murmured. “Of course you will stay.”

Frodo popped his head up and beamed at Thorin. “I know t’at word!” he said excitedly. “It mean… it mean ‘son’.”

Thorin returned his smile and settled back in the chair again. “That’s very good. It means ‘son’. I’ll be your _adad_ , and you’ll be my _dashat._ Alright?”

“Uh-huh. Story now?”

Thorin chuckled and opened up the book again. “Of course. Now, let’s see… once, in a time long before ours, there lived a king…”

\--------------------

“ _Adad_ , when is Ori an’ Dwalin gonna kiss?”

Thorin adjusted the wooden sword in Frodo's hands and leaned back to watch him swing. “I’m sure it will be soon. Why are you so worried about it?”

“Unca Bilbo say t’ey gotta kiss, else Ori’s gonna be sad an’ I don’ wan’ Ori to be sad.” Frodo swung his sword again and wobbled on his feet. “Unca say t’at Bofur say t’at Ones gotta kiss quick.”

“Bofur is just playing with your uncle,” Thorin replied. “Ones don’t have to kiss for a long time. Sometimes they never have to kiss. You and Fíli don’t kiss, remember.”

“Fíli kiss my cheek.” Frodo pointed to one rosy cheek as apparent proof. “Bofur say t’at okay.”

“You really shouldn’t listen to everything Bofur says, you know.”

“Bofur says I gotta ‘cause he knows… e’ryfing.”

“Everything,” Thorin corrected.

“Yes.”

Thorin sighed and hoisted Frodo into his lap. “You know, Dwalin and Ori don’t need permission to kiss. They can do it without the advisors permission.”

“How come t’ey won’t?” Frodo asked.

“Well… because Dwalin is a very stubborn dwarf,” Thorin replied.

“Ori not,” Frodo insisted.

“Well, no, but…” Thorin trailed off in thought for a moment while Frodo watched him with wide eyes. “You know, _gimleluh,_ I believe you are right,” he said finally. He stood and adjusted Frodo on his hip, then stepped over the forgotten toy sword as he walked towards the door. “Would you like to find Ori with me?” he asked. “I have something important to tell him.”

“Hide an’ seek!” Frodo cheered. “We find Ori.”

“That’s exactly right, we’ll play hide and seek and find Ori. Where should we look first?”

And with that, the two set off into the halls of the mountain in search of its scribe. Truthfully, Thorin knew that Ori would most likely be in the library or in his brother Dori’s study. But he figured that it would be more entertaining for Frodo if they went searching first before coincidentally stumbling upon Ori while walking past the library.

As it turned out, Frodo was much better at the game than Thorin had anticipated. They only checked a few places before Frodo tugged Thorin's braid lightly and pointed down the hall that led to the library. “Ori read a lot,” he said as they walked. “Unca Bilbo take me to see Ori here.”

“That’s very smart of you,” Thorin praised. Frodo blushed and kicked his feet in pleasure.

Ori was indeed in the library, bent over a large book as he furiously scribbled runes across the page. Frodo cheered and kicked his feet until Thorin let him down to go run towards his friend. Ori smiled when Frodo attempted to climb up his coat.

“I thought you had sword training today,” he said to the babe.

“Me an’ _adad_ come find you,” Frodo replied.

Ori glanced up and nodded in greeting to Thorin. “I didn’t realize you were coming to see me, sir.”

Thorin smiled and approached the table to help Frodo finish climbing up the chair and into Ori’s lap. “It was not too long ago that we conquered this mountain together, Ori,” he said gently. “I think, given those circumstances, you could just call me Thorin.”

Ori flushed and fiddled his thumbs. “I forget, sometimes,” he apologized. “Dori always told me I had to be polite, you see—”

“Say no more,” Thorin interrupted. He sat at the table across from Ori and leaned forward on his forearms. “I wish to speak to you now as a friend, though.”

Ori frowned in confusion. “What about?” he asked.

“About Dwalin.”

Ori blinked nervously and fidgeted his thumbs faster. “I… what about Dwalin?” he managed.

“You do not need to hide it, Ori. Even Frodo knows that you and he are Ones.”

Ori’s flush grew deeper and he cleared his throat anxiously. “I… actually, Dwalin is only my One. I'm not his since he hasn’t… well, he hasn’t accepted it.”

“Yet,” Thorin said. “He wishes to, but the advisors are preventing him and he is too stubborn to rebel against them.”

“I would believe that, honestly, except—”

“Except what?” Thorin asked.

Ori shrugged and sighed. “Well, I knew on the journey here, you see. And I accepted it at King Bard’s house, and I tried to talk to him and tell him, but… he refused it. He denied it, denied the bond. So it was before the advisors even showed up.”

Thorin cursed under his breath in Khuzdul. _That moronic, rat-eaten tunnel worm,_ he thought to himself. He’d always known that Dwalin was stubborn, but for him to deny his One before politics even came into play was downright stupid.

“Dwalin is an idiot, but he does care for you,” Thorin finally explained. “He is simply set in his ways, in the ways of our people.”

Ori shrugged again and stared firmly at his open book. “I’m not sure what I can do about it, then,” he replied.

“You need to initiate something. Dwalin is stubborn, but even he cannot deny the connection when his One is touching him. Any sort of contact, and Dwalin will cave—”

“You gotta kiss him,” Frodo interrupted.

“Yes, kissing him would work,” Thorin said.

Ori was practically beet red now, but his hands had at least grown still. “I couldn’t do that,” he whispered. “It would be forcing Dwalin—it would be wrong.”

“Dwalin already cares for you very deeply,” Thorin argued. “He loves you—you are his One, even if he denies it now. He simply needs a… push.”

“A push,” Ori repeated. “What if that push sends him further away?”

“It won’t. I swear to you.”

Frodo watched Ori with wide eyes while the scribe seemed to contemplate his options carefully. “I would… I should kiss him?” he finally clarified.

“You should kiss him,” Thorin said. “Do us all a favor and make that old grump happy for once.”

Ori’s mouth hitched up in a half-smile and he took a deep breath. “Alright,” he managed. “Where is Dwalin now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God Ori/Dwalin will happen next chapter and Bilbo/Thorin will be starting up. For now enjoy some sappy, fluffy Thorin & Frodo being goobs and flower crowns.


	9. Chapter 9

Ori could do this. All he had to do was walk up to Dwalin, square his shoulders, tell him his feelings once and for all, and kiss him. It was easy. He’d faced orcs and trolls and goblins and a dragon before, he could certainly do this.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered frantically to Thorin.

“Of course you can,” Thorin replied. He shifted Frodo to his other arm and pushed Ori lightly towards the room where Dwalin was currently reviewing guard rotation schedules. “He’s alone in there, so no one can even see you—”

“What if he rejects me?” Ori said urgently. Frodo stared blankly at Ori, his thumb securely in his mouth, and Ori brushed the boy’s curls from his forehead. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said decidedly.

Thorin sighed and leaned against one of the massive columns in the hall. “This has gone on for far too long, Ori,” he said. “Ask any one of the dwarves that joined us on our journey here—Dwalin has loved you for a very long time. He is simply a coward.”

Ori smiled in spite of the terror rolling down his spine. “I thought he was supposed to be your closest friend.”

Thorin shrugged. “If I cannot say it, who will?” he replied.

Frodo tapped Thorin's chest urgently. “Is t’ey gonna kiss, _adad_?” he whispered.

“They had better,” Thorin told the boy seriously. “Before we all lose our minds over this.”

Ori glanced in the room again nervously. Dwalin was hunched over his papers, oblivious to the conversation outside. The younger dwarf took a deep breath and stepped towards the door.

“You’re certain it will work out?” he asked over his shoulder. Thorin just pushed him again and shut the door behind him loudly.

Dwalin glanced up at the sound and furrowed his brows in confusion. Ori took a deep breath. He could do this.

“I must speak with you,” he said shakily. “It’s… very important.”

Dwalin pushed his papers away and leaned back in his chair silently. “What is so urgent that you must interrupt me?” he asked.

Ori swallowed and stepped forward until he was only a few feet from Dwalin. “It is concerning… us,” he started. Dwalin arched a bushy brow but remained silent, so Ori took a deep breath and continued, “I have heard from…others, that you only denied that I was your One because of the politics. And I don’t care about any of that. If you wish to keep us a secret—to keep _me_ a secret—I would accept that, but you cannot deny me again. I know you care for me at the very least, and you already know… you know how I feel for you,” he finished in a whisper.

Dwalin was silent for a long moment. “You would keep us a secret?” he finally asked. “You would hide in the shadows from the advisors, from anyone that was against a member of the line of Durin being with someone outside of that line?”

Ori flushed and stared at his hands. “Yes,” he whispered. “If it meant I could have you.”

Then, before Dwalin could say another word, Ori stepped forward, leaned down, and kissed his One squarely on the mouth.

\--------------------

“How come Ori not here?”

Thorin handed Frodo a small hunk of cheese and grinned at the two empty seats at the table. “I am guessing that he and Dwalin have more important things to do right now,” he replied.

Frodo shook his head, and Thorin delighted in the curls that bounced against his forehead. “Unca say nofin’s more im…impoten’ t’en food,” he said seriously.

“Important,” Thorin corrected. Frodo nodded and reached for a slice of bread eagerly. “And I suppose to a hobbit that would be correct.”

“What about hobbits?” Bilbo asked from the doorway. Thorin waved a dismissive hand and handed Frodo another hunk of cheese.

“Nothing of import, we were just discussing why Ori was not at supper tonight,” he replied.

Bilbo sat at the table across from him and brushed some crumbs from Frodo's cheeks. “I haven’t seen Dwalin since the noon meal, either,” he said worriedly. “I hope nothing has happened to them.”

Thorin grinned. “Nothing unfortunate, if that’s what you are thinking.”

Bofur smirked from his chair at the end of the table. “They’re only havin’ a _lengthy_ discussion ‘bout their relationship,” he added.

Bilbo frowned in thought, but Thorin only shrugged again and turned back to Frodo. The lad had somehow managed to smear jam all over his cheeks, and was currently attempting to cover the table in jam as well. Thorin would be more irritated if it weren’t so endearing.

“Oh! You dwarves are _terrible_ ,” Bilbo suddenly said with a glare aimed at him and Bofur. “Talking about your friends like that! Imagine!”

Bofur burst into laughter, clutching his sides as he leaned back in the chair. “We’re all adults, Bilbo,” he finally managed. “Well, except the lad, bu’ he’s no’ concerned with anythin’ but the food in front o’ him.”

“Still, it’s not proper to be saying things. For all you know they really are discussing their relationship, and now you’re just spreading false rumors about them,” Bilbo huffed.

Nori kicked his feet up on the table and grinned. “I walked past Dwalin’s room on my way here,” he replied. “There weren’t much talkin’, but there was a whole lot of noise.”

Bofur burst into laughter again as Bilbo gaped at the dwarf. “You’re Ori’s brother, aren’t you supposed to be defending him?” he

“Boy’s old enough to take care of himself. Besides, nothin’s been said that weren’t true.”

“You’re lucky Dori’s not here to hear this talk, or else he’d beat you all senseless!”

“ _Adad_?” Thorin glanced down at Frodo's insistent tugging. “Is Dori mad t’at Ori an’ Dwalin kissed?”

“No, _gimlìth,_ I don’t think that’s what Dori would be angry about,” Thorin replied with a smile.

“Thorin!” Bilbo protested.

“What? I simply answered his question.”

“You know very well what!”

\--------------------

Frodo plodded over with another handful of dirt and dumped it by Bilbo's knee. “Done,” he said proudly. Bilbo smiled and patted the dirt down.

“That’s very good, darling,” he praised. “I’d say it’s looking pretty good, don’t you?”

“Yes. We gotta show _adad_ now.”

“I think he would like that, yes.” Bilbo stood up with a small groan and took Frodo's hand to guide him down the winding hallways.

Thorin was bent over his large wooden desk, grumbling in Khuzdul at a stack of forms. Frodo toddled over and crawled up Thorin's coat onto his lap. “You gotta see what me an’ Unca Bilbo did,” he said excitedly. Thorin immediately set his quill down and scooped the boy up and over his shoulder as he stood.

“Is it something exciting?” he asked as they walked. Frodo giggled and kicked his feet but remained silent.

“It’s in the hothouse,” Bilbo explained. Thorin nodded and headed down the hallways back into the tunnels.

Frodo kicked until Thorin let him down when they arrived at the hothouse, and then grabbed Thorin's hand and pulled him over to the little patch of dirt he and Bilbo had been working on all morning. A little green sapling stood in the center, held up by a wooden beam.

“Unca Bilbo made it, when we was in t’e Shire,” Frodo said excitedly. “He said he planted a… a corn an’ it’s gonna grow into a big huge tree!”

Thorin blinked and stared down at the tree. “An acorn,” he said finally. “It’s called an acorn. Your uncle picked it up during our trip here. Has he told you about that yet?”

“A little,” Frodo replied. He tapped a green leaf and giggled when it bounced back and tickled his nose. “He say you an’ Ori an’ Dwalin an’ Nori an’ Balin an’—”

“Darling, we’ll just say ‘the Company’ and make it a little shorter, alright?” Bilbo prompted. Frodo nodded and looked back up at Thorin.

“He say you an’ all t’em went a long long way an’ came here an’ fought a _dragon_.”

“That’s right, very good,” Thorin replied. “I’ll tell you more of the story tonight.” Frodo beamed and patted the leaf again in delight. After a moment he wriggled to be let down and went racing towards Bifur, leaving Thorin and Bilbo alone.

“You kept the acorn,” Thorin finally said. Bilbo flushed and nodded.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever… if I’d ever see any of you again. I wanted something to remember the journey with,” he muttered.

Thorin eyed the sapling carefully and nodded. “It will make a fine tree,” he said after a moment. “I am… glad you kept the acorn.”

Bilbo refused to let this become awkward. He and Thorin had parted on decent terms after the Battle of the Five Armies, though Thorin had been riddled with guilt over his gold-sickness. The acorn had been one of the few things that had almost brought him out of his sickness. After Bilbo had left the mountain he’d made sure to keep the acorn close by him.

“Well,” Bilbo said finally. “I’m glad I kept it, too.”

If the half-smile Thorin gave him left Bilbo just a little breathless, well. No one had to know.

\--------------------

The day the elves arrived in Erebor for negotiations was one of the worst days of Thorin's life.

Thranduil was still unhappy with the reward and offering the elves had received after the Battle of the Five Armies, so a party had travelled with him to Erebor to further discuss compensation. Thorin had no intention of giving them anything. Really, the only reason he wasn’t throwing them out of his halls is because Kíli’s elf maiden was with them and it would have made his sister-son upset.

“Really, the elves aren’t half so bad now that they aren’t locking you in their dungeon,” Bilbo said as he helped Frodo get dressed. Thorin grumbled incoherently and slumped further in the chair he was resting in. The elves had been there for three days so far and nothing had been accomplished except quite a bit of glaring and cursing in native tongues.

“Nori say t’ey weed-eaters an’ called ‘em spineless,” Frodo said seriously. “Wha’s t’at mean?”

“Never you mind that. I’ve told you a dozen times already never to listen to anything Nori says,” Bilbo replied.

“Bofur say it, too. An’ Dwalin. But Ori glared at him so he stop.”

Bilbo chuckled and helped Frodo slide off the bed. “Then I’d say that relationship is a success.”

“Dwalin’s gone soft,” Thorin grumbled. “He only threatened three elven lives at yesterday’s meeting.”

“Oh, hush up and let’s go to breakfast.”

Thorin sighed but stood obediently, scooping up Frodo and draping him over his shoulder as they walked. The faunt squealed in delight and grabbed onto Thorin's coat with tiny hands, and Thorin immediately felt a little better.

Until, of course, the meeting started and Kíli spent the entire time staring at the red-haired elf maiden and sighing while Thranduil looked down upon every dwarf in contempt. No matter how much Bilbo tried to convince him that he was only looking down because he was so much taller, Thorin was one snide look away from grabbing the elf king by his flowing hair and tossing him down the mountainside.

The only highlight of the meeting was when Frodo, who was sitting comfortably on Fíli’s lap for most of the discussion, suddenly banged his hands against the table and shouted “No! Meanie!” when Thranduil dared to insult Nori’s beard. Thorin had never been prouder.

“Well, that was… enlightening,” Bilbo managed after they broke for lunch.

“I thought for sure Dwalin was gonna tackle tha’ one elf who insulted Ori’s knittin’,” Bofur grinned.

“I like t’e red-haired tall lady,” Frodo told Thorin seriously.

“Did you?” Thorin asked. “You may have to fight Kíli for her attention.”

“Why?”

“Because Kíli mistakenly believes that she is his One.”

Bilbo slapped Thorin's shoulder and glared when Thorin looked down at him innocently. “It is not a mistake and you know it,” he insisted. “You said yourself that sometimes dwarves have Ones that aren’t dwarven. It’s entirely possible that Tauriel is Kíli’s One.”

Thorin frowned. “Who in Mahal’s name is Tauriel?”

Bilbo sighed and dragged Thorin off to the kitchen where the rest of the Company was waiting for them. “That would be the red-haired elf that Kíli is infatuated with. Did you really not know her name?”

“I didn’t need to. She is an elf.”

Kíli was slumped over the table, head resting on one hand while the other drew figures in the table. He shifted back a bit when Frodo wiggled onto the bench and crawled into his lap, and the boy curled against Kíli’s chest and tapped his arm until Kíli looked down.

“I like t’e red-haired tall lady,” he said seriously. “You need’ta marry her. Or kiss her. Like Dwalin an’ Ori.”

Ori blushed furiously and stared down at his mittens, while Dwalin just leaned back in his chair, looking smug.

After lunch ended, Bilbo caught Thorin's arm before they reentered the meeting hall. “Do try your best not to bad-mouth the elves too much around Frodo,” he chided. “The boy liked the elves in Rivendell on our journey here—I imagine he’ll end up liking these elves, as well. Hobbits are similar to elves, you know.”

“Frodo didn’t like Thranduil,” Thorin objected.

“Frodo doesn’t like anyone that insults you dwarves and your beards,” Bilbo replied. “Please, just try?”

Thorin sighed heavily but nodded in acquiescence. “I will not say anything foul. But I won’t praise them, either.”

Bilbo smiled fondly and Thorin's heart gave a curious leap. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

In the end, Frodo only liked two of the elves. Unfortunately, one of them was Legolas.

Frodo _loved_ Legolas.

“An’ he shoots arrows an’ he’s got real long hair an’ he made me a _coat_ for Flower,” Frodo chattered as they walked away from the meeting hall. Thorin sighed to himself and shifted Frodo on his hip. Legolas had done or said—something, Thorin wasn’t entirely sure what—that had Frodo making moon-eyes at the blonde elf.

“I’m glad you had so much fun today, darling,” Bilbo replied. He shot Thorin a sly smile over Frodo's head and Thorin returned the look with a tired glare.

“When t’ey comin’ back, _adad_?” Frodo asked. He tugged on Thorin's sleeve impatiently and bounced in the dwarf’s arms. “Is t’ey comin’ back soon?”

“Maybe,” Thorin replied after a moment. He kept to himself that he would sooner allow another dragon into the halls of Erebor before he _negotiated_ further with Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck it's been two months since I updated this. I am so sorry. It's summer now and I have no classes so I swear it'll come faster. I'm a terrible person. 
> 
> In other news, the acorn/tree scene is an idea from AO3 guest Moon and the scene of Frodo liking Legolas and Tauriel is an idea from AO3 guest Ashley kibodeaux. If you have any ideas, let me know!


	10. UPDATE

Hey guys, I'm sure you've been wondering where I am and what the hell is going on where I haven't updated in several months. Long story short, I was pretty busy with work and then about three months ago my computer started acting up, freezing and running slowly and all that so it was difficult to type anything. Luckily, I finally got my computer into a repair shop and Apple is fixing it as we speak so I should have it up and running in a few days. I am NOT abandoning these works, I promise I will update them and continue writing, all I ask for is a little more patience. You're all fantastic and I'm so glad you stuck with this story!!

**Author's Note:**

> Written because BotFA was sad and I was sad and baby Frodo seemed like the perfect solution.
> 
> Got an idea for a fic? A prompt you'd like to see? Either leave a comment on this fic OR go to my [tumblr ask box](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/ask) and leave it for me. I'd love to hear them!


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